


Chronological Displacement

by bookinit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Animagus, Christmas at Hogwarts, F/M, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mostly Canon Compliant but Also Not, Mutual Pining, POV Harry Potter, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Quidditch, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookinit/pseuds/bookinit
Summary: “Should it still be spinning like that?” Malfoy asks weakly. Definitely not, Harry thinks. At this rate, it would send them back to the beginning of bloody time.“Malfoy, we have to slow it down!” Harry yells over the growing racket of the time turner. Harry’s not sure how, exactly, they’re going to do that, but they have to try. Malfoy looks at him wildly, and hesitates for only a second before grabbing his arm.The time turner only seems to grow stronger. A bright light begins to glow out from the center of the device, reaching its edges over to Harry and Malfoy. Fuck.The last thing Harry sees is Malfoy’s worried face, and then darkness.—featuring: Harry meeting the marauders, a healthy dose of Drarry and Wolfstar pining, and the James and Harry friendship you never knew you needed.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 140
Kudos: 631





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now, and I’ve just recently had the motivation to post it. Hopefully I have the motivation to finish😅 (pray for me). I’ve always wanted to post a Harry Potter fic, and tik tok may or may not have inspired me to write one. After searching for a fic like this and finding barely anything, I decided to try and write it myself. I hope you like it!
> 
> \- H

Quiet lingers in the air on Harry’s first day back at Hogwarts. He feels the absence of Ron and Hermoine at his side like a phantom limb. Harry also feels the absence of the other students who didn't return. The ones who _couldn't_ return.

There are only six first years, shuffling in nervously, occasionally sneaking glances over at Harry and then quickly looking away. Harry watches the sorting ceremony with dull disinterest. The general mood of the ceremony is far more somber than it had been in the years before. Three first-years get sorted into Gryffindor, two to Ravenclaw, and the last to Slytherin, a pale, scared young girl whose head is almost entirely dwarfed by the Sorting Hat. The hall is dead silent as she makes the journey to the Slytherin table, joining only four other students- Parkinson, Zabini, Nott, and Malfoy. Harry tries not to look, but is inevitably swayed by the uncomfortable atmosphere. It’s like a car crash — horrifying, yet he can’t look away.

The new first year sits quietly at the Slytherin table, rounding out the number of students to five. None of the other students welcome her, and most barely spare her a glance. Harry is honestly surprised that there are any Slytherins at all — most are either in hiding, or, in the more extreme cases, living out their sentences in Azkaban. All students were extended an invitation to come back to Hogwarts and finish their educations, of course, but no one had really expected any Slytherins to accept the offer. Except, there they were, sitting in the Great Hall eating Pumpkin Pasties like nothing had changed. And worst of all — Malfoy sat among them, head down, picking at his food like it had personally offended him. Once Harry’s eyes catch on him, he’s rooted to the spot. _Look away, dumbass,_ he pleads with himself. However, his eyes are not persuaded, and they continue to bore into the back of Malfoy’s robes until he hesitantly looks over his shoulder to meet Harry’s gaze. The second he does, they both hastily look away, and Harry feels his cheeks warm. _Idiot._

And, okay, it’s not that Harry _hates_ Malfoy, or anything. Really, he doesn’t. Sure, Malfoy may be an arrogant, pureblood tosser, but without him, Harry probably wouldn’t be alive. And, if anything, Malfoy probably went through almost as much as he did during the war. So honestly, Harry doesn’t hate him. Dislikes him, maybe, if anything. Maybe not even that.

Mostly, he’s just... _uncomfortable._ It feels strange, that after everything, Harry’s back at Hogwarts with Malfoy, who was one of the only other unofficial “eighth years” to return. That after Harry stared death in the eye, he can return to Hogwarts and stare at the back of Malfoy’s head again, like he’s back in first year. And really, strange as it is, Malfoy’s one of the only familiar faces Harry has this year. Ron started Auror training only a few months ago, and Hermoine travelled to America to go to a prestigious wizarding university. Ginny’s back at Hogwarts, but Harry honestly hasn’t spoken to her much since their breakup. It’s not that they’re on bad terms, per say, but Harry just wouldn’t count her as a close friend at the moment. Neville’s back at Hogwarts, too, but only for a teaching internship with Professor Sprout. Harry hasn’t seen him at all since he’s arrived, since he's reportedly spending his days in the greenhouse. Even Luna’s out of the picture, gone to travel abroad with her father.

So, really, it just boils down to Harry and Malfoy. It’s a little awkward, considering the last time Harry saw Malfoy was at his family’s trial. Harry had spoken up for him, but hadn't talked to him directly. Of course, at the time, they had been separated by the vast expanse of the Wizengamot courtroom. Now, they’re separated by a mere three tables.

Honestly, even before the trial, Harry was thinking about trying to clear the air between them. More out of necessity than anything else, but also because Malfoy doesn’t seem to be quite as much of a prick anymore. He mostly just seems as though he’s had the wind taken out of his sails, which Harry can certainly relate to. The only problem is that Harry’s not entirely sure how Malfoy would react to an offer of peace. Well, he can guess — a scoffing remark and a quick dismissal — but Harry wants to try and approach him in the least offensive way possible, to avoid that outcome. He’s not quite sure yet how to do that, but he’s willing to try. 

His musings are interrupted by McGonagall clearing her throat. All the students in the Great Hall turn to face the sound.

McGonagall slowly sweeps her eyes over the crowd, then begins the traditional start-of-term welcome speech.

“Students, I know that this year is like no other. We have all faced significant challenges, and have overcome them. However, I am so glad to see all of you here today, in one piece. You, dear students, are the future.” She pauses to look at Harry, an unreadable look in her eye, then quickly continues her speech.

“We, as the Wizarding World, have been through much turmoil over the past few years. However, I believe that together we can heal, and we can rebuild.” She looks out to the crowd, raising her glass. “To the new semester, and all that comes with it.” The students, including Harry, echo the sentiment and begin eating, some with more enthusiasm than others. 

Harry reluctantly takes a bite of his turkey leg, simultaneously scanning the Gryffindor table for someone to talk to. Ginny’s sitting on the other end, so even if he wanted to talk to her, he couldn’t. Somehow, though, he’s been placed right next to the three first years, all of whom are looking at him with varying degrees of awe. The boy next to him reaches up to tug on the sleeve of Harry’s robe. Harry, startled, looks down at him.

“Um, Mr. Harry Potter, sir?” The boy squeaks. Harry tries valiantly to repress a snort.

“Just Harry is fine. What’s your name?” He replies, smiling to try and put the boy at ease. It must not work, because he still looks like he may pass out any second. The other two first years, both girls, watch on with thinly-veiled interest. 

“Justin, sir.” Poor Justin looks like he’s about to vibrate right out of his seat. Harry nods at him and holds his hand out to shake. Justin stares at his hand for a beat too long before returning the hand shake weakly. “Um, I just wanted to ask. Um. What was it like, fighting You-Know-Who?” 

Harry blinks at him. “Er—” 

He’s thankfully interrupted by the voice of McGonagall. “If you’ll excuse me, boys, I would like to have a word with Mr. Potter in my office.” Justin nods so vigorously Harry’s a bit worried his head might fall off.

“Right. Well, it was nice meeting you, Justin,” Harry offers, standing up to follow McGonagall. Justin gives an enthusiastic wave in response as he leaves. Harry winces, then turns back to the hallway. He’s not quite sure what McGonagall wants to talk about. Maybe making him Head Boy? It would make sense, although Harry’s not quite sure he wants the added responsibility. He mostly just wants to keep his head down and graduate without any added attention on him.

When they reach McGonagall’s office, though, Malfoy’s waiting for them. Harry hadn't even noticed him leave the Great Hall, which is a bit surprising. Not that he was _watching_ him, or anything. However, Malfoy seems just as taken off guard as Harry is, which brings Harry a good deal of comfort. At least he wasn't the only one completely in the dark regarding McGonagall's meeting.

“Er, what’s this about, Professor?” Harry asks hesitantly. McGonagall gestures for Harry and Malfoy to sit, which they do. Malfoy doesn’t quite look up to meet anyone’s eye, instead keeping his eyes on his hands, folded in his lap.

McGonagall fixes them both with a serious gaze. “Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. I’ve called you both here because I have an important task for you two.” At this, Malfoy looks up. Harry leans forward in his seat, intrigued.

“What is it?”

“Well. I would like you boys to deliver a message to Professor Dumbledore.” Harry and Malfoy, startled, send each other confused glances before quickly looking away again. _Merlin, McGonagall’s gone barmy_.

“Er, Professor—” Harry starts hesitantly. McGonagall fixes him with a sharp look.

“I am well aware that Albus is not with us anymore, Mr. Potter.” She sniffs, adjusting her glasses to sit higher on the bridge of her nose. Harry sits back in his chair, relieved but still confused.

Malfoy, brow furrowed, speaks up hesitantly. “How do you expect us to deliver the message, then?” He pauses. “Headmistress,” he tacks on belatedly, bowing his head respectfully.

“Well, I was rather getting to that, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall replies, not unkindly. She holds out a familiar-looking clock device, and a rolled up piece of parchment. “I would like you boys to go back in time precisely eight months and deliver my letter to Professor Dumbledore. It is urgent, and of the utmost importance that he receives it.” Harry reaches out to take the items, feeling a little blindsided.

“Eight months, Professor? Isn’t that a little risky, on a time turner?” Harry can’t help but dart a glance over at Malfoy, who’s sitting like a rock in his chair. “And, er— why us, if you don’t mind me asking?” At this, Malfoy snorts. 

“Why _me,_ I think you mean.” But even as he says it, Malfoy’s guarded demeanor drops just a bit, revealing confusion and worry. “But I would like to know as well.” He directs his words to McGonagall, who sits up a bit straighter.

“I would have done it myself, but eight months of travel is indeed risky for a witch of my age. You two are some of the most powerful young wizards I know. Together, you should have no problem completing this task.” She turns to look at Malfoy. “I am placing my trust in _both_ of you. I trust that you will not let me down.” Malfoy swallows and nods. McGonagall turns to Harry, who hesitantly nods as well. He’s certainly been through much worse, and it _would_ be nice to see Dumbledore again, even if only for a short time. 

“Excellent.” McGonagall claps her hands together. “This should be a fairly quick and easy task. Please do not dally.” Harry nods, and gets up to leave. “Remember, eight turns should do the trick. I’ve already set it to the preferred time frame.” Harry nods absently, only half-listening. He walks out into the corridor, Malfoy close on his heels.

“You’ve done this before, then?” Malfoy asks him, staring nervously at the time turner. Harry nods.

“Yeah, on the day of Buckbeak’s execution.”

Malfoy blinks uncomprehendingly. “Well— alright, then. I suppose you’re the expert.” Harry gets the feeling that the retort was supposed to sound sarcastic, but Malfoy mostly just sounds resigned. Harry holds up the time turner, inspecting it. It looks a little different from the one he and Hermoine used, and Harry can’t quite figure out why. The basic design is the same, but something about the turning mechanism looks different. It’ll work just the same, though, Harry supposes. 

Malfoy taps his foot impatiently. “Well, we haven’t got all day, Potter. Get on with it.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m going, relax.” It was eight turns, right? One turn for each month, Harry supposed. Simple enough. He put his fingers on the knob and began to twist. _One, two, three—_

Harry’s interrupted by a whirlwind of arms and legs that he doesn’t see coming until it’s too late. “Harry! I mean, Mr. Harry Potter, sir! I really wanted to talk to you about—” Justin, in his hurry, knocks Harry right off his feet, the time turner clattering to the ground. 

“Justin, move!” Harry shouts.

Justin, eyes wide, runs off down the hall.

“Sorry, I’ll talk to you later!” He shouts over his shoulder. Harry groans.

“Please don’t,” he mutters under his breath. Malfoy lets out a quiet snicker. Wait— Malfoy. The time turner! Fuck. Harry wildly searches the ground until he sees it. Only a few feet away, but still spinning like mad. Harry pales. 

“Should it still be spinning like that?” Malfoy asks weakly. _Definitely not,_ Harry thinks. At this rate, it would send them back to the beginning of bloody time. 

“Malfoy, we have to slow it down!” Harry yells over the growing racket of the time turner. Harry’s not sure how, exactly, they’re going to do that, but they have to try. Malfoy looks at him wildly, and hesitates for only a second before grabbing his arm. 

Harry looks uncomprehendingly at Malfoy’s hand on his arm. “We’ll be stronger together!” Malfoy shouts. Oh. Right. The spell. Harry points his wand at the time turner, along with Malfoy. _“Finite Incantatum!”_

The time turner only seems to grow stronger. A bright light begins to glow out from the center of the device, reaching its edges over to Harry and Malfoy. _Fuck._

The last thing Harry sees is Malfoy’s worried face, and then darkness. 

***

“Bloody hell, mate. Where did they come from?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Doesn’t that one look a little bit like...”

 _“Merlin,_ he really does. The spitting image.”

“A cousin, maybe?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve met all of James’ cousins.” 

“A long-lost brother?”

A snort. “Yeah, right.” 

_James?_ Why was Harry’s dad there?

“Dad?” Harry murmurs quietly. Is he dead? _Again?_ Blimey, what a way to go. Death by time turner. Wait— fuck! The bloody time turner! Harry bolts upright.

“Malfoy?” he spins around wildly to see Malfoy lying face down, seemingly unconscious. Bugger. “Malfoy, wake up.” Harry shakes his shoulder. 

Malfoy wrinkles his forehead, eyes fluttering open. “Shove off, Potter,” he grumbles, shrugging Harry’s hand off his shoulder. 

“Malfoy? Potter?” The voice from earlier asks. A familiar voice, now that Harry thinks about it. “Bloody hell, who _are_ you two?” Harry slowly raises his eyes to see—

“Sirius,” Harry chokes out, stunned. He looks much younger than he was when Harry knew him, and is sporting a studded leather jacket that Harry _knows_ is against the Hogwarts dress code. 

“That’s me, mate. Who are you?” Harry blinks at him. 

“Um. Harry Potter.” Malfoy snorts next to him, and Harry shoves his shoulder. Prick.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “...Right. You related to James, then?” 

Harry trips in his haste to stand up. “You could say that, yeah.” Unthinkingly, he holds out a hand for Malfoy to take. Malfoy, to his credit, only stares at it for a second before grasping it lightly and pulling himself to his feet.

Sirius stares at the two of them. “Sure. And you?” He asks Malfoy.

Malfoy draws himself up to his full height, appearing as dignified as one can be after being found unconscious in a school corridor. “Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he states primly. Sirius’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Lucius? Well, I suppose I see the resemblance.” For a moment, the three of them just stand there, staring at each other in silence. 

Someone clears their throat. “Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but where did you two come from?” Harry turns to the voice. He had almost forgotten that there was another person with them. 

“Professor Lupin?” Harry chokes out. Lupin stares back at him, seemingly very confused.

Malfoy clears his throat, looking over at Harry. “Look, Potter, I know it’s been a while since you’ve... _seen_ them,” he pauses, and he and Harry both go quiet. Remembering. Malfoy clears his throat. “But can’t you see you’re confusing the bloody hell out of them?” Oh. Right.

“Sorry,” Harry starts sheepishly. “We’ve had a bit of an accident with a time turner. Do you know where Professor Dumbledore is?” He can’t stop looking at Sirius and Lupin, these young, carefree versions of them that Harry never knew. They’re around his age, maybe even younger. They have no idea what lies ahead. Harry’s heart aches at the thought. 

Sirius’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “A time turner? Blimey! Don’t those only go back a few hours at a time?” 

Lupin is staring at Harry in thinly veiled shock. “Does that mean you’re James’s son, then?” Sirius goes silent, apparently having just realized this as well. Lupin’s brow furrows. “Also, did you call me _Professor?”_

Harry fidgets, not sure how much he’s supposed to tell them. “Um, yes. And... yes?” he tries. Malfoy stares at him in disapproval. 

“Potter, do you _ever_ think before you speak?” 

Harry stares at him. “Honestly? Not really.”

Sirius bursts out laughing. “Well, that’s definitely James’s son.” He and Lupin share a bemused glance. “Let’s get you two to Dumbledore then, I suppose.”

Lupin glances over at Harry as they walk. He looks like he wants to ask something, but isn’t quite sure if he should. After a minute or two of furtive side glances, Harry takes pity on him. “Is there something you wanted to ask me, Professor?”

Lupin wrinkles his nose. “Please just call me Remus. It’s bloody strange to be called Professor from someone my own age.” Harry laughs.

“Sure, Remus. But what did you want to ask?”

“Well... is Lily your mother? You have her eyes, is all.” Harry blinks, surprised.

“Yeah, she is,” he replies quietly. For the first time, the magnitude of the situation sinks in. He could get to see his parents. Not in a dream, not as ghosts, but young and _alive._ Happy. Malfoy looks over at him, brow furrowed in something that resembles worry. _You okay?_ he mouths. Harry blinks in shock, then nods. Malfoy nods sharply in return, then quickly looks away.

Harry turns back to Lupin. “Why do you ask? Are her and dad not together yet?” 

“No, they are. It’s new, though.” Lupin pauses. “They had a bit of a rocky start, but here we are, I suppose.” 

“Here we are,” Harry echoes.

They spot Dumbledore before they reach his office. He’s walking down the hallway with a much younger McGonagall, both engaged in an amicable conversation. They stop in their tracks when they see the group of teenagers approaching.

“Oh dear,” says Dumbledore. “You two look like you’ve had a bit of a chronological displacement.” He looks Harry and Draco up and down, and his eyes stop dead at Harry’s scar. “You must be a very powerful wizard, Mr. Potter,” he murmurs, his eyes still trained on the scar. 

Harry meets his eye. “Not me. My mother,” he says firmly.

Dumbledore nods. “Ah yes, Lily. Well, I won’t argue with that. She is indeed a talented witch.” Harry nods, throat suddenly tightening. He’s unable to say anything else, but he can tell that Dumbledore understands. He looks at Harry with sympathy in his eyes. 

Dumbledore clears his throat. “Well, boys, come into my office and I’ll see what I can do for you.” Malfoy, Sirius, and Lupin, who had all been watching the conversation with varying degrees of confusion, snap to attention and follow Dumbledore into his office.

Once inside, they all take their seats. Dumbledore regards Harry and Draco. “Let me see. Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black.” Sirius startles at the sound of his cousin’s name, and looks at Malfoy with renewed interest. Malfoy doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Both eighteen years of age, both currently attending Hogwarts. Am I correct?” Dumbledore peers over his glasses at them. Harry nods. 

“Yes, Professor. We had a bit of an accident with a time turner. We were instructed by Headmistress McGonagall—” Malfoy elbows him sharply in the side, giving him a pointed look. Oh, crud. “Er, _Professor_ McGonagall — to give you this letter.” Harry digs in his pocket for the letter and hands it to Dumbledore, who is chuckling at his slip-up. 

“It’s all right, Harry. I am quite aware that I will not live forever. Minerva will make a fine Headmistress in my stead.” Next to them, Sirius makes a startled noise, and he and Remus glance worriedly at each other.

Dumbledore opens the letter and adjusts his glasses to read it. As he does, his expression grows more and more concerned. “I see,” he says eventually, looking troubled. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, boys.” Harry and Malfoy nod hesitantly, neither one aware of the actual contents of the letter. 

Malfoy speaks up quietly. “Headmaster, do you know if we will be able to return to our proper time?” 

Dumbledore looks up at them. “With wizards of your caliber, I believe it is possible. However, I will have to locate a rare type of time-turner to send you back. It will take a few weeks, at least.”

Malfoy pales. _“Weeks?”_

Dumbledore nods, seemingly unconcerned. “Until then, I see no reason for you all to not continue your education. You can join your respective houses and attend classes with the seventh-years. I'll arrange for extra school supplies to be sent up to the dorms." He conjures a quill and takes down a quick note on a nearby sheet of parchment, then looks back up at them. "Am I correct in assuming Gryffindor and Slytherin?” Harry and Draco both nod. “Excellent.” He finishes his note and hands it to a nearby owl to be delivered.

Dumbledore turns to Sirius and Lupin. “I would like you boys to look out for them, along with their parents. I trust that you will be hospitable during their stay?”

Sirius grins widely. “Yes, sir. Just wait until James and Lily hear about this!”

Harry’s eyes widen. Yes, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the first chapter! I can’t promise super frequent updates, unfortunately, but I do already have part of the next chapter written, so that one should be up fairly quickly. I hope you guys like it so far!
> 
> \- H


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the parents and a totally non-romantic game of Quidditch.

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Lily shrieks. Harry fidgets uncomfortably from his spot in the common room, wishing he could sink right into the floor. James blinks at him from his position on the couch, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he grins.

“Well, I’m a little young to be a father, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry. Say, would you want to go play Quidditch sometime?” James leans back on the couch, putting an arm around Lily, which she promptly shoves off.

“How are you being so calm about this, James? This is our _son._ From the future!” She runs a hand through her hair and exhales sharply. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

Sirius shrugs. “Dumbledore already vetted him. Plus, he’s pretty cool. Even for being your son, Lils.” Lily scowls at him.

Harry watches the exchange with wide eyes. His parents are so... _young._ So normal. In only three years, they would be dead. 

James turns to Harry. “Well, what do you say, son?” Harry startles.

“Erm, I would love to play Quidditch sometime. It’s been a little while since I’ve played, but if you’ve got a snitch, I’m game.” He doesn’t know what to say to Lily, who seems to be on the verge of a Hermoine-style breakdown. Harry has the feeling that anything he says will probably only freak her out more.

James, on the other hand, is practically bouncing with growing excitement. “You’re a seeker? Brilliant! Well, I’m a bloody good chaser, if I do say so myself." Lily rolls her eyes at this, and James turns to grin at her before looking back at Harry. "We can invite your friend over to join, too, the one that came with you. What position does he play?”

Harry settles down on a chair in the corner of the room. “Er, he’s not exactly my friend. He’s the Slytherin Seeker, though.” Or, _was,_ rather. Harry doubted that Quidditch would even be happening this year, with the limited attendance at Hogwarts.

James nods. “Ah. He’s Lucius’s son, right? And a Slytherin, too. No surprise there. Probably a proper brat, then.” Sirius snorts lightly in agreement. 

Harry thinks back to Lucius. Draco may take after him in some ways, but Harry thinks that Draco may be better than him in the ways that really counted. A fair degree braver, at least. And he did seem to genuinely want to make up for his actions during the war, which couldn’t be said about his father.

“He’s not quite as bad,” Harry hedges, feeling an odd need to defend Malfoy. “We just don’t run in the same circles, really.” He wants to laugh. Isn’t _that_ the understatement of the year.

James raises an eyebrow. “Fair enough, I suppose. We do need to round out the team, so we’ll invite him then, if he isn’t a prick. And Remus and Sirius too, of course.” Remus and Sirius, for their part, don’t look too enthused about this development.

Remus looks up from the book he’s reading and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You do know it’s nearly Christmas, James? It’s going to be bloody freezing.”

James snorts lightly. “Don’t be such a downer, Moony. I just want to play a game of Quidditch with my son.” He directs a conspiratorial grin at Harry. Harry hesitantly smiles back.

Lily, seemingly having processed her mental breakdown, sits down next to Harry. “You’re in seventh year, is that right?” she asks conversationally. Harry nods, still unsure how to act around her. She reminds him of Hermoine, a bit. Anyways, Harry’s technically in eighth year, but he’s not sure how to explain that without mentioning the war that stole away his seventh year, so he doesn’t.

“Have you started studying for NEWTS, then? I’m trying to go for a double charms and potions mastery, myself.” Harry raises his eyebrows, impressed. His mother _definitely_ reminds him of Hermoine.

“Well, the term just started,” Harry starts, breaking off when Lily continues to look at him expectantly. “But, er, I’m quite good at Defense, and I’m alright at Charms. I’m pants at Potions, though. Didn’t even qualify to take the NEWTS.” Lily nods, seemingly satisfied.

“That’s alright. Potions is a difficult subject. We can study for Charms together, if you want. None of these slackers,” at this she glares at the rest of the marauders, “ever want to study with me. Except Remus, that is.” Remus sheepishly looks up from his textbook at that.

Honestly, Harry isn’t much for studying, either. He’s always been more of a learn-on-the-go type of person. He’s had to be, really. But hell if he’s not going to jump at the one opportunity he’s ever had to bond with his Mum. “I’d love to,” he replies, his answering smile only slightly forced at the prospect of studying. He catches James’ eye, who’s looking at him knowingly, a smirk on his face. Harry fights down a laugh. He had a feeling he’ll get on with his Dad just fine. 

Sirius rolls his eyes. “While this is all quite fascinating,” he drawls, “I have much more exciting news.” Lily raises an eyebrow.

“Really. More exciting than my son time-travelling from the future? Please, Sirius, enlighten us.” 

Sirius takes this in stride and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Well, I was on my way to Potions, minding my very own business, and you’ll never _believe_ what I saw.” Remus glances up from his book and stares at Sirius incredulously. 

“What did you see, Sirius?” he asks flatly. Sirius is wholly unfazed by the lack of reaction, keeping the same level of energy that he had before.

“I saw our very own Peter Pettigrew and the lovely Alice Cooper... _snogging!”_ Sirius takes in the shocked reactions and looks extremely pleased with himself.

Remus blinks, startled out of his unphased attitude. _“Peter?_ Our Peter,” he clarifies. Sirius nods enthusiastically. 

Lily raises an eyebrow. “Peter’s scared of his own shadow, Sirius. And he’s been pining away for Alice since third year, without ever doing anything about it. Are you having us on?” 

Sirius crosses my heart. “I swear it. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I reckon she made the move, not him.”

James laughs incredulously. “Bloody hell! Good for him, then.” A chorus of cheers go up around the room.

Harry, on the other hand, is shocked for an entirely different reason. It’s been a few years since he’s thought about Peter Pettigrew, but the memories come flooding back. The disheveled, disgusting man that cowered on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, the man that betrayed his parents and left them to die. The man that had been best friends with the marauders, a certified member of the club.

Lily glances over at Harry, brow furrowed. “You alright there, Harry? You look a bit peaky.” Harry shrugs it off, forcing a smile.

“Just tired, that’s all.” Lily nods, but still looks concerned. 

Harry’s honestly not sure how he’ll react when he sees Pettigrew in person. It’s hard to think of him as a young man, a man that could have been friends with James and Lily. Harry pictures someone a bit like Malfoy, surprisingly. Someone that had the potential to be a good person, but was pushed to make the wrong choices. 

With a rush of adrenaline, Harry wonders if he can somehow change it. Maybe if he could just talk to Peter... But he’s not quite sure about the logistics of time travel, and what would happen if he tried to change something so monumental. Of course he wants to stop his parents from dying, but then what would happen to his life in the future? Would it disappear? Would he even care if it did? He has half a mind to ask Dumbledore about it, but he has a feeling it would only leave him with more questions than answers. Besides, Dumbledore was busy locating the time-turner, anyways. Maybe he could talk to Malfoy about it. After all, he _is_ in the same boat as him.

“Harry, go grab your friend. Or, acquaintance? Whatever he is. We’ll be at the Quidditch pitch in ten minutes.” Harry nods back at James, who’s already grabbing his school bag and slinging it over his shoulder. The remaining marauders follow along behind him, all with varying degrees of reluctance. Harry waits only a few seconds before heading off to find Malfoy. He has some things they need to talk about, anyways.

***

“Potter, are you _crazy?”_

Draco’s staring at him with wide eyes, looking like Harry had just suggested that they go murder babies for sport, or something. Harry rolls his eyes.

“First off, just call me Harry. We’ve travelled in time together, for Merlin’s sake, I think we can drop the last names.” Draco hesitates, but nods stiffly.

“Fine. _Harry,_ we can not prevent your parents’ death. I’m sorry,” he continues, and actually looks it, “but imagine the consequences that would have. You have no idea what would happen!”

Harry sighs. “Neither do you,” he points out. “Plus, are you even _happy_ with the way things turned out? Do you really want to go back to how it was, if there’s a chance we could make it better?” This may be an underhanded move, but Harry knows for a fact that Draco isn’t happy with his life at the moment. How could he be? His father is rotting away in Azkaban, and his mother is, presumably, rotting away in Malfoy Manor. Harry hates to think of Narcissa like that— she did, after all, play a huge part in saving Harry’s life — but Harry had heard the rumors. 

Narcissa wasn’t doing well after the war, and there were whispers of her being transferred to the Janus Thickey Ward. Harry hoped, for her sake, that she overcame her fugue state, but even he could see how much it had worn on Draco. He walked the school hallways like a ghost, always pale and worn out. He looked exhausted all the time, and like he wasn’t eating enough. He looked, quite frankly, like Harry had during his seventh year.

Draco looks torn, and Harry continues, hopeful in his recruitment efforts. “Draco, I know your life has been hard. So has mine. But what if we could make it better? What if we could prevent all the deaths, all the war?”

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I’m going to regret this,” he mutters. He seems to think for a moment, before looking up at Harry. “Alright, you loon. I’m in. What’s the plan?” Harry startles, then celebrates internally. He’s never been allies with Draco before, but there’s a time for everything, he supposes. He’s mostly just glad he doesn’t have to try and save the future by himself.

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far,” Harry admits. Draco snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Of course you didn’t. I’m not even surprised.”

Harry rolls his eyes, pushing Draco lightly on the shoulder. “Git. I’ll figure something out tonight, alright? Meet me at the top of the astronomy tower and we can brainstorm.” Neither of them mention what happened the last time they were in the astronomy tower together. Draco’s expression grows solemn.

“Alright,” he says softly. They stand in silence for a moment. “Well, if that’s all, Potter— sorry, _Harry—_ I think I’ll turn in.” Draco goes to shut the door to the dungeons, and Harry abruptly remembers why he came to see him in the first place.

“Draco, wait,” Harry rushes out, grabbing his sleeve, “How would you feel about a late night game of Quidditch?” Draco, for a moment, only stares at Harry’s hand grabbing his robe sleeve. Harry, suddenly embarrassed, drops his hand. He clears his throat. “Well?”

Draco looks at him for a moment, the pale blue of his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He swallows roughly. “All right,” he says quietly. “I’ll grab my broom.”

***

Harry hasn’t felt this free in what feels like years. The wind whips through his hair, and he and Draco are neck and neck for the snitch. “Go, Harry!” James shouts from above them. Harry grins, and stretches out his fingers for the snitch. It’s been a while since he played, what with the war and all, but the thrill of flying feels just the same. Draco also looks happier than Harry’s seen him in quite a while, grinning as he tilts his broom forward to increase his speed. He looks quite attractive, actually, although Harry shakes off that thought as soon as it comes. Where did that even come from?

Draco glances over at him, his blonde hair falling in his eyes. He grins. “Scared, Potter?”

Harry rolls his eyes. In the corner of his eye, he can see the snitch just within reach of his fingertips. He smirks. “In your dreams, Malfoy.” Harry, in a sudden rush of confidence, winks at Draco. They’re friends now, aren’t they? Sort of? And after all, what’s a bit of healthy competition between friends (allies? aquaintances?). Draco, however, startles, wavering on his broom before attempting to regain his balance. Harry takes advantage of the moment and closes the last few inches between him and the snitch, holding it up triumphantly.

“Ha! One hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor!” James and Sirius grin down at him, while Draco seems to stumble over his words before speaking.

“Harry, you can’t name your team Gryffindor when I’m the only person here _not_ in Gryffindor.” He looks up pointedly at Remus and Lily, who just shrug. Draco glances back at Harry, seemingly flustered. “You cheated, anyways. I thought Gryffindors were above that sort of thing.”

Harry furrows his brow. How did he cheat? Draco was the one getting distracted in mid-air for no reason. “Says who? And besides, I didn’t cheat. We were just having a conversation.”

Draco seems frustrated, although Harry isn’t quite sure why. Just a sore loser, he supposes. Draco had always had a wild competitive streak. “You—” Draco cuts himself off, rubbing at his temple. “Fine. Good job, Harry. Well played.”

Harry grins. “You too. You’re actually quite good, when you’re not focused on cheating and trying to knock me off my broom.” 

Draco rolls his eyes. “That was _once._ But— thanks, anyways.” There’s a bit of color in his cheeks, and Harry wonders if he’s catching a cold. It is a bit drafty outside, and Draco left his scarf on the bleachers. Harry wonders if it would be too odd to fly over and grab it for him. Probably.

“Great job, Harry!” James calls, flying over to meet them. He holds his hand out for a high-five, which Harry doesn’t hesitate in meeting. “You take after your old man, huh? Good looking _and_ talented.” 

Sirius and Remus fly in right behind him. “James, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes. “Also, please don’t call yourself his ‘old man’ when you’re both eighteen. It’s just weird,” he finishes, shuddering. Sirius looks over to Harry. “That was fantastic, though. Best game I’ve played in a long time.”

Harry shrugs, feeling himself blush. “It’s nothing, really. And I’m a little rusty, anyways.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, looking over. “Harry, you really have to stop being so modest. It makes you look like a Hufflepuff.” He looks back at Sirius and James. “Harry made the team his first year. Youngest player in a century! And honestly, he was the main reason why we never won a game against Gryffindor in four years. He was the best player on that team by far.” Draco seems to realize he said this with a bit too much enthusiasm, and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Um, not that I was paying attention, or anything. I just noticed because I had to come up with opposing Quidditch strategies, and all that.”

Harry looks at him bemusedly. “You never struck me as a fan, Draco. I had no idea you paid such close attention to my Quidditch career.” Harry feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. Draco looks, quite possibly, the most embarrassed Harry’s ever seen him. Excluding, maybe, the time he was turned into a ferret.

“I _don’t,”_ Draco grumbles.

James turns to him. “You’re quite good yourself, mate. Draco, was it?” Draco nods. “You’ve got great speed on the pitch. If you shaped up a bit, you’d be neck-and-neck with Harry.” James considers him for a bit. “You know, Draco, you’re not bad, for a Slytherin. Maybe the most decent one I’ve met.”

Draco seems to choke on thin air. “I— um, thanks,” he mumbles, turning quite red. James reaches out to shake his hand, and Draco meets it hesitantly.

“No problem, mate. Any friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine,” James says easily. Draco raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t deny the statement. When James turns around to talk to Sirius, Draco meets Harry’s eye.

“We’re friends now, are we?” He murmurs lowly. Harry shrugs.

“Why not?” 

Draco blinks at him. Then blinks again.

“Why not— Harry, I could think of a thousand reasons why not. You really want to be friends with me? After everything?” Draco looks confused, but also— hopeful? Harry opens his mouth to reply when he sees Remus looking back at them curiously. Shit. Do werewolves have enhanced hearing? Harry can’t remember.

Harry decides to save his big speech on how Draco’s been a better person lately and how he deserves a second chance for later. For now, he’ll just give him the condensed version and hope that Draco can read in between the lines. “Look, Draco, we’ve been through a lot, yeah? But it’s a new year. And honestly, I’d like to put the past behind us. So yes, I’d like to be friends. That is, if you want to as well.” Draco still looks confused, so Harry lowers his voice. “We can talk it out in the astronomy tower later, yeah?” 

Draco swallows roughly, then meets Harry’s eye. “Yeah, I’d like that. Friends?” He holds out a hand for Harry to shake, and Harry does his best to politely ignore the fact that Draco’s fingers are trembling. He reaches out and grasps Draco’s hand firmly.

“Friends.”

They shake on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s crush on Harry never fails to make me melt inside. Harry’s getting there, just much more slowly. I hope you liked it! I hope you guys don’t think I made them become friends too quickly, but I promise that they’ll have a proper talk in the next chapter. Wolfstar is coming up as well, so look forward to that!
> 
> -H


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a midnight conversation, and some amortentia brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! Finals are coming up and I am stressed, to say the least. Only two more weeks in the semester, so there should be some updates after that :) Enjoy!

Harry’s trying to keep his breathing in check as he sneaks out to the astronomy tower. He’s not sure why, exactly, but he’s nervous to meet Draco. It feels like the two of them are standing on the edge of something precarious, something that Harry desperately wants to jump off of. The only problem is, he’s not sure Draco feels the same way. It feels like he does, sometimes. Draco seems like he would be willing to be friends, but then Harry remembers the sneers and taunts that followed him all throughout Hogwarts. He firmly reminds himself that Draco’s not like that anymore. Quite possibly, he was _never_ really like that; it was just a convincing facade. Many things about Draco were.

Harry hears footsteps farther down the corridor and hurriedly pulls his invisibility cloak tighter around his shoulders. He had felt slightly guilty taking the cloak from his dad’s trunk, but _technically,_ it was Harry’s anyways. Just not in this present time. Besides, the idea of getting caught by a younger, more mobile Filch has Harry a good bit more nervous about sneaking around at night. It was funny — he’d fought dementors, and Voldemort, yet he was shaking with nerves as he walked down the corridor. A little walk around school at night, and he was somehow nervous. It may have to do with the fact that this was not just any walk— he was going to meet Draco, his former enemy, somewhere they had both witnessed Dumbledore’s death. The astronomy tower held no good memories for Harry, but it was really the only place he could think to meet Draco, other than the room of requirement. And since that room arguably held even _worse_ memories for Draco, Harry didn’t want to propose it as an option.

When he reaches the tower, Draco’s already there. The tip of his wand is lit up in a faint lumos, and his blue-grey eyes are staring blankly out the window of the tower. He looks lost, like he’s not mentally present. Harry’s been seeing that expression on Draco’s face more and more, and he wishes he knew how to banish it.

“Hey,” Harry says softly, approaching Draco like he would a spooked horse. Draco looks up sharply at his presence, his face settling into something more attentive. Harry wonders faintly if it’s just a mask, if Draco is still off somewhere in his head that Harry can’t follow.

Draco exhales forcefully. “Hey,” he returns, picking at a loose thread on his robes. “You said we should talk?”

Harry nods, carefully lowering himself to sit next to Draco. He clasps his hands in his lap, unsure where else to put them. Draco’s hands are in sporadic motion, betraying how nervous he actually is. Harry wishes that Draco wouldn’t feel nervous around him, but given their history, he doesn’t blame him. Which reminds him—

“Draco, I’m sorry. I hope you know that.” 

Draco’s hands abruptly still and his head jerks up. _“You’re_ sorry? For what?” 

Harry swallows around the lump in his throat. “For hexing you. Sixth year,” he adds on, although he hardly feels the need to clarify. They both know exactly what he’s talking about. Harry still has nightmares about it sometimes, Draco bleeding out on the bathroom floor. He could have died that day because of Harry’s ignorance.

Draco hunches his shoulders and turns away from Harry. “I was the one who tried to _Crucio_ you for having the nerve to walk in on me while I was crying.” Draco squeezes his eyes shut, and Harry feels a strong urge to comfort him. He’s not sure if they’re quite there yet, though. 

Harry clears his throat. “Still. I didn’t even know what that spell did. It was idiotic of me to use it. It was written in an old textbook with the words _for enemies,_ and for some reason I thought that was good enough. I could have killed you, Draco.” Harry sneaks a glance over at Draco, who’s still studiously avoiding his eyes. Harry shifts his gaze and looks out the tower instead. 

“You’re not my enemy, Draco. You never really were. That spot was reserved for Voldemort.” Harry feels Draco’s eyes on him, but keeps his gaze straight ahead. He needs to get this out. “Listen, you were a prick. You made mistakes. There’s no denying that. But the war’s over, and people change. _You’ve_ changed. I’ve noticed.” Finally, he chances a glance over at Draco, whose eyes are suspiciously misty. Harry graciously doesn’t point it out. Instead, he keeps going.

“You saved my life, when you refused to identify me. And, I don’t know if she ever told you, but your mother did the same, the day of the final battle. You could have let me die, but you didn’t.”

Draco’s jaw clenches, and he doesn’t meet Harry’s eye. “I only did it for selfish reasons. I knew you were the only hope of defeating him.” Draco’s fingers fiddle with the buttons of his cloak, a nervous gesture.

“And, Harry. You can’t possibly say that excuses everything I’ve done. I could apologize for lifetimes and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Draco hesitates, then finally looks up to meet Harry’s eye. “I’m sorry, Harry. For all of it. I know it’s not enough, but I am.” Harry lets out a breath. 

“Thanks, Draco. But I’ve already forgiven you.” He considers this for a second, and amends his statement. “Of course, you still need to apologize to Hermoine. And Ron.” Draco’s nose wrinkles at the mention of Ron, and Harry fights off a laugh. He has a feeling that Draco and Ron will never quite get along, even after apologies. 

“But, Draco, you need to forgive _yourself._ The whole war didn’t rest on your shoulders. If it hadn’t been you, they would have found someone else. Another Slytherin with Death Eater parents.” Draco flinches at that, and Harry rushes to move on.

“I’m not saying it excuses what you did. I’m not saying that I would have done the same thing. But I _am_ saying that I understand why you did it. I can understand the fear for your life, for your parents’ lives.”

Draco says nothing for a moment, staring straight ahead. Eventually, he lets out a sigh, turning to look at Harry. “You’re a far better person than this world deserves, you know that?”

Harry blinks in surprise, unsure how to respond. “Er, thanks?”

Draco chuckles lightly. “You’re welcome.” His face turns to a more serious expression, and he regards Harry for a second, searching for something in his face. Harry has no idea what it is, so he holds still and tries not to squirm too much under Draco’s gaze. After a moment, Draco seems to give up.

“I don’t know if I can ever make up for what I’ve done, Harry,” he says quietly, “but maybe I can start by helping you. What’s your plan to change the past?” Harry startles, having entirely forgotten that that was his reason for wanting to talk to Draco in the first place.

Although Harry had planned to come up with something earlier in the day, the idea had entirely slipped his mind. His only plan currently was a half-baked idea of talking some sense into Peter Pettigrew. After that, Harry had no idea what he would do. Fight Voldemort a second time? He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, but he would do it if it meant his parents would live.

Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Er...”

Draco looks at him incredulously. “There’s no plan, is there,” he says flatly.

“There’s... sort of a plan?” Harry fumbles. “One step. Maybe.”

Draco puts his head in his hands and rubs at his temples. _“One bloody step,”_ he mumbles exasperatedly. He looks back up at Harry. “Please tell me you at least thought this through.”

Harry stares blankly back at him. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much about it at all, other than the general _save my parents_ part.

Draco groans. “Why am I even asking? Of course you didn’t. It’s _you.”_ Harry takes slight offense to that, but, well— Draco’s not exactly wrong.

“Harry, we don’t even know what will happen from changing the past. Does it create a second reality? Does it erase _our_ pasts? Will we... I don’t know, rip a bloody _hole_ in the fabric of time?” Draco seems to get more agitated as he speaks. He notices Harry looking at him incredulously, and seems to take a moment to gather his composure again. “All I’m saying,” he continues more quietly, “is that we’re in uncharted territory. We have to be careful. We have to have a _plan,”_ he says, looking pointedly at Harry. Harry rubs the back of his neck, slightly abashed.

“Well, that’s what I have you for?” he tries. Draco looks at him flatly.

“I am _not_ doing all the work, Harry.” 

Harry shrugs. “What about some of it? I’m rubbish at planning, really. Just tell me if I need to fight someone or, I don’t know, do a spell or something.” He very pointedly doesn’t mention the specific _someone_ that he would be fighting in this scenario.

Draco sighs. “This is what I signed up for, I suppose,” he mutters. “You said you had a first step?” he asks Harry. “Just get me that, and I’ll work on the rest.”

Harry nods. _That,_ he can do. “Thanks, Draco,” he says, and finds that he really means it. He smiles. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

Draco looks surprised for a split second, but his expression morphs into a tentative smile. “I am too, Harry.” For a second, their eyes meet, and Harry’s stomach feels strangely warm. Maybe he’s coming down with something? He should go to Madame Pomphrey and ask her.

After a second, Draco’s eyes cut away, and he clears his throat. “So, about the plan...”

***

All things considered, Draco’s plan is much better than Harry’s was. Draco had said that, while “idiotic Hufflepuff bollocks,” Harry’s plan to talk to Peter wasn’t entirely a bad one. Meanwhile, Draco planned to research everything he could about Voldemort’s rise to power and find out what he was doing at this specific moment in time. Harry had thought that was incredibly brave of Draco, given how obviously terrified he was of Voldemort, but Draco had just shrugged it off. 

So, come Monday morning, Draco was in the library and Harry was off to his first joint Gryffindor-Ravenclaw potions class. Peter was joining them for the lesson, and Harry was hoping he could catch him after class and talk to him. There was only a _slight_ problem, in that Harry had no bloody idea what he was going to say. He couldn’t exactly just come out and say, _‘hey, Peter, don’t betray my parents, please,’_ so the jury was still out on that one. He had about an hour to figure it out, though.

James jostles Harry’s shoulder as they walk, and Harry looks up at him. It was still startling to see someone so similar to himself, and even more startling when he remembered it was his dad. “What’s up, Harry? Head in the clouds today?” James asks lightly.

Harry shrugs. “Just not looking forward to potions, I guess. It’s not my best subject.”

James nods enthusiastically. “I feel you on that, mate. Say, is Slughorn still teaching it when you’re from? He must be _ancient.”_

Harry nods distractedly, still thinking about his impending conversation with Peter. “He came back for one year, but it was mostly Snape. And he hated me, really, so it was never my favorite class.” Harry keeps walking for a few seconds before he realizes everyone else has stopped.

Harry stumbles to a stop and looks back at the group, all of whom are looking at him slack-jawed. Harry racks his brain to think of what he said that caused that reaction. Wait. _Fuck._ For a second, he had actually somehow forgotten about the marauder’s feud with Snape. 

_“Severus Snape_ was your potions teacher?” Sirius asks incredulously. Harry fidgets, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. 

“Er, yes. Sorry, I almost forgot about your whole... _thing_ with him,” Harry says awkwardly, waving his hand in a meaningless gesture to try and represent the thing in question.

James and Sirius blink at him uncomprehendingly. After a second, James clears his throat. “He didn’t treat you well, you said?” He sounds angry, and Harry quickly tries to think of a response that won’t end in James trying to find Snape and beat him up right there and then.

“Well. Um. Sort of? It’s just that he doesn’t like you, and so he didn’t like me either. But he wasn’t, like, the worst teacher in the world or anything. I guess.”

Nailed it.

James clenches his jaw, and Lily reaches over to rub his shoulder soothingly. She looks troubled, a furrow working its way between her brows. “Severus became a potions teacher?” she asks softly, almost to herself. “But he wanted so much more than—” She looks back at Harry. “Do you know why?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.” 

James yanks his shoulder out of Lily’s grasp. “Why do you care?” he mutters angrily. “It’s not like you two are still friends, or anything.”

Lily’s face does something complicated. “I know that,” she says carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still worry about him.” She looks away for a second. “I don’t think he’s on a good path right now,” she admits quietly. 

Harry struggles to stay quiet. Snape had been decent, in the end, but Harry’s feelings about him were still mixed enough that he didn’t feel like he should have a say in the matter. 

He’s almost relieved when they reach the door to the Potions classroom. Remus, who Harry had almost forgotten was there, clears his throat. “Harry, you can partner with me,” he says quickly. “James and Sirius always work together, and Lily was going to partner with her friend Marlena from Ravenclaw.” Harry nods.

“Hey, what about Peter?” says Lily.

Remus shrugs. “He’s walking over with Alice; they’ll probably partner together, too.” 

It’s almost jarring to see Slughorn at the front of the classroom. He’s a bit younger, but overwhelmingly similar. He smiles at Harry as he walks in. “Ah, Mr. Potter. I was told you’d be joining us. Are you partnering with Mr. Lupin today?” Harry nods, smiling weakly. Slughorn beams back at him.

“Excellent, excellent. Well, I’m sure you’ll be every bit as good as your mother. And your friend, too, from Slytherin? I had him in class this morning, he was just wonderful. Brew the best Amortentia I had ever seen, he did.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise slightly. “We’re brewing Amortentia today, professor?”

Slughorn nods enthusiastically. “Indeed we are, my boy. Now, go ahead and take your seat. We’ll be starting soon.”

Harry turns to Remus as they take their seats. “I hope you’re decent at Potions, because I’m bloody rubbish at them. I only did okay one year because I cheated, and I can’t do that now.”

Remus looks intrigued. “You cheated? How?”

Harry rubs the back of his neck. “I had Snape’s old textbook. He wrote tons of extra instructions and things that weren’t in the book. It was brilliant, really.”

Remus hums lightly, seemingly amused. “I always wondered how he was so good at Potions. But don’t worry, Harry, I’m okay at them.” He laughs. “Nowhere near Snape’s level, of course, but good enough to brew a decent Amortentia.”

And, as Harry found out, he really was. Remus stirred the potion with a level of care and dedication that Harry could only dream of. He’d always thought he was rubbish at potions mainly because he didn’t have the patience for it. Who wanted to sit there for an hour counting counterclockwise wand stirs? Not Harry, that’s for sure. He’d much rather be on a broom or in a classroom practicing spells.

As it went, Harry mostly resigned himself to grabbing the proper ingredients and handing them to Remus. He was much too distracted for anything else, as he kept glancing over at Peter on the other side of the room. Peter was much more attractive as a young man than he had been as an adult. He was sitting with a pretty girl, presumably Alice Cooper, and laughing with her while they brewed their potion. He looked happy, if slightly timid. Harry had no idea how he was supposed to go up to him after class and yell at him for something he hadn’t even done yet. He would have to take a gentler approach, he supposed.

Remus stiffens beside him, and Harry glances over. Remus’s nose is lowered to the cauldron, and he looks somewhat like he may faint. Harry looks on in confusion. Remus had told him, once, that when he smelled Amortentia, he smelled new parchment and quill ink. Harry had no idea what he could be smelling that caused such a reaction. 

“Is the potion done, then?” Harry asks. 

Remus nods weakly. “Um. Yeah, I think.”

Harry stares at him. “... And?” he prompts.

Remus rubs at his temple. “Smells like new parchment and quill ink. And—” he quickly cuts off. “Nothing. That was it.” Remus keeps glancing over to the other side of the room, and Harry follows his gaze over to the table where James and Sirius are sitting. They’re laughing uproariously, their potion looking for all the world like it’s on the brink of an explosion. Harry looks back at Remus. He’s gazing at them— no, at _Sirius—_ with a wistful look in his eye. He looks back at Harry and quickly turns his head back, embarrassed to be caught out. Harry thinks back to the relationship Remus and Sirius had as adults, and it clicks into place. _Ohh._ It makes sense, now that he thinks about it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it before.

“Sirius?” Harry asks quietly. Remus puts his head in his hands and shakes it miserably. 

“Smells like bloody _dog hair._ I’m fucking pathetic,” he mumbles. Harry, unsure what to do, rubs at his shoulder uselessly.

“You’re not pathetic,” he says softly. “You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had. And a good friend.”

Remus looks up at him, eyes soft. “Thanks, Harry. I always wanted to ask, if in the future...” he looks back at Sirius and sighs. “Well, probably not. He’s straight as they come, you know? Always chasing after girls. Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t even see me.” 

Harry looks back at Sirius. He’s leaning down to take a sniff of his potion, and as he does his back stiffens. He looks back at their table quickly, then looks away. Harry raises his eyebrows. _Interesting._ “Maybe don’t count him out so quickly,” he says to Remus.

Remus is staring at Sirius, his expression confused. “Maybe,” he echoes quietly. After a second, he straightens back up. “Anyways, you go ahead.”

Harry already knew what he would smell. He leans down to smell the potion, and there it is — treacle tart, wood from his broomstick, and— what was that? Harry tries to lean closer to catch the new smell, and almost dips his nose in the potion. The scent is sweet, and clean. Harry has no idea what it is. He leans back up, and Remus looks at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Harry bites his lip. “Treacle tart and broomstick wood, but there’s a new smell in there. I can’t tell what it is.”

Remus grins. “Someone special in your life, Harry?” he teases.

Absurdly, Harry thinks of Draco. He shakes his head to clear it. Why would he be thinking of Draco? He must just be preoccupied with their conversation from the other night.

“Not really,” he replies, shrugging. 

Just then, a loud sound fills the room, and Harry nearly jumps out of his skin. James and Sirius’s potion, unsurprisingly, has exploded.

Slughorn sighs. “Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, please stay after class and help me clean this up. Everyone else is free to leave, but please bottle a small portion of your Amortentia and leave it on my desk along with your name. The makers of the best potion will receive five house points each!” 

Harry and Remus look at each other, then move to bottle up their potion. They pass James and Sirius on the way out, each boy covered in pink slime. Harry fights back a laugh, while Remus lets his loose loudly. Sirius flips him off without looking, which Harry thinks is quite an impressive feat, given the pink goop covering his eyes.

Harry spots Peter while leaving the classroom, hand in hand with Alice Cooper, and his mood dampens immediately.

Time for a difficult conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some wolfstar! I hope you guys liked this chapter, be sure to let me know in the comments. As always, I really appreciate everyone who has shown their love of this fic so far; it really inspires me to keep going. Love you guys! Good luck on finals or midterms if you have them. :)
> 
> \- H


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some important conversations, and stupid boys in love.

Harry catches a glimpse of blonde hair turning the corner and runs to catch up. “Er, Peter?” he calls hesitantly. Peter doesn’t turn around. Harry clears his throat and tries again. “Peter!”

Peter startles and turns around, eyes wide. He waves off the girl walking with him — Alice, was it? — and jogs through the crowd of students back to Harry. As he approaches, Harry has the sudden realization that this is the first interaction they’ve had. Peter may not even know who he is, if James didn’t already tell him. Blimey, what a first impression.

Harry rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Er, hi. I’m—”

Peter grins. “I know who you are, mate. You’re,” he leans in and lowers his voice, “from the _future,_ right?” He looks impressed.

“James told me all about it,” he continues enthusiastically. “Bloody incredible, if you ask me.”

Harry blinks. “Um. Right. Anyways, I need to talk to you.” He looks around at the bustling hallway. “Alone.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “Ohh. Is this about, you know, _future stuff?”_ he whispers. 

Harry swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Future stuff.”

Peter nods in understanding and leads them off to an empty classroom. “This is the old Arithmancy classroom,” he explains, “but it’s not being used right now. No one will bother us here.” He looks up at Harry expectantly.

Harry takes a deep breath and tries to speak around the lump in his throat. “Peter,” he starts haltingly, “I— I wanted to talk to you. Because. Um.” He looks at Peter’s open, trusting face and blinks hard. He’s just a boy. How is Harry supposed to do this? He can’t blame this version of Peter for his parent’s death. 

Harry steels himself, taking a deep breath. He can do this. He _needs_ to do this. He’s fought Voldemort, for Merlin’s sake, he can muster up enough courage to talk to a teenage boy. Even if he did betray his parents and get them killed.

Harry looks back at Peter. In the last few moments, he’s grown seemingly more concerned, picking up quickly on Harry’s changing mood. Peter looks at him questioningly.

“Peter, I’m going to be honest with you. You make— a _really_ big mistake. In the future. And I’m having a hard time even talking to you right now, because I don’t think I’ve ever forgiven you for it.” Peter’s face slowly drains of color, but Harry forces himself to keep going. He just needs to say his piece, and then he can move on.

“I know, though, that you haven’t made that mistake yet. You’re just a kid. And you still have a chance to fix it.” Harry looks at Peter, then, and goes to sit down in the desk next to him. He looks him in the eye, and sees the remnants of the Peter Pettigrew he had known in the future. Harry sees the fear, and the cowardice, and the self-hatred. But then again, he also sees hope. He sees a chance.

Surprisingly, Peter in that moment reminds him of Draco. Is this what it would have been like, if Harry had talked Draco out of his mistakes? Of course, Draco hadn’t been indirectly responsible for his parent’s deaths, but neither is this younger version of Peter Pettigrew. Harry can’t hold him accountable for something he hasn’t yet done.

Harry clears his throat. “Peter, I know that you only made that mistake because you were scared. But you were sorted into Gryffindor for a _reason._ I’m going to level with you— something bad is coming. And it’s coming fast. But please don’t pick the wrong side.” To Harry’s horror, he feels tears building up in the corners of his eyes, and he rushes to wipe them away.

“Peter, I need you to promise me. No matter how scary things get, or how frightened you are, I need you to make the right choice. Okay?” Harry’s voice cracks on the last word, and he clears his throat. He looks back at Peter. “Peter please tell me you understand. Please promise me. This is so important, you have no idea.” 

Harry’s begging at this point, but he’s desperate. If Peter still turns on James and Lily after all this, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

But as he looks at Peter’s face, he sees something he didn’t expect. Understanding. Peter’s expression is solemn.

Peter swallows hard. “You’re an orphan,” he croaks out, voice barely a whisper. “Aren’t you.” He says it with bone-dead certainty, and Harry swears he can feel the temperature of the empty classroom drop several degrees.

Harry’s not quite sure what to say. “How— how did you know?” he asks quietly. 

Peter looks off to the side, his eyes welling up with tears. “I’m an orphan, too. And I recognize it, you know? The signs.” Harry startles. He had never known that about Peter. He also hadn’t realized that he was so easy to read.

To his horror, Peter’s started crying openly. “Um. Please don’t cry,” Harry says awkwardly.

Peter raises his head. “How? James and Lily are dead. Because of—” he looks up at Harry, realization dawning. “Because of me?” he says in disbelief. “Because of something I did?”

Harry nods tightly. “You didn’t kill them, or anything. But you did betray them. And it led to their death,” he says honestly. Peter starts crying harder.

“How can you even stand to look at me?” he sobs. Harry looks at him, and shrugs.

“You haven’t done it yet. And I’m hoping that you won’t. Honestly, I don’t really trust you. But I have to believe there’s good in you, Peter. There has to be, if you were friends with my parents. They saw something in you.”

Peter wipes at his eyes. “Can I ask— how old were you? When it happened?”

Harry swallows hard. “One,” he says quietly. “I never really knew them.”

Peter lets out a choked sob, and Harry silently conjures a tissue for him. Peter takes it gratefully.

“I always knew I was a coward,” he says quietly. “But I can’t imagine betraying James and Lily. They’re my friends, you know? James more so than Lily, but you get it,” he stammers. “Without them, I would still be a loser. I mean, I still am, but I would be more of one. I used to get bullied real bad, back in first year. James scared them off for me.” He looks back up at Harry with renewed determination.

“Harry, I swear to you. I won’t do it. I swear on my life,” Peter says solemnly. 

Harry nods, relieved. “Good. Then we shouldn’t have a problem.”

Peter nods, eyes still wet. 

Harry thinks it over for a moment, sizing him up. “Peter?”

Peter looks up at him. “Yeah?” he says quietly.

“I think you should give yourself more credit. Somewhere in there, you’ve got more bravery than you think. _Use it._ Don’t become the man I knew.” He pauses, remembering the future Peter Pettigrew. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”

And without looking back, Harry walks out of the classroom.

***

“Okay, so I might have been a little harsh on him”, Harry admits. 

Draco stares at him in disbelief. “A _little?”_ Then he snorts. “I’m proud of you, Harry. I knew you had it in you.”

Harry laughs. “I should have known you’d be impressed.”

Draco raises his eyebrows. “Hey, who said I was _impressed?”_ he teases lightly. “It was adequate. But you made him swear to an unbreakable vow, right?” he asks, his face growing serious.

Harry pauses. “Um.”

Draco groans. _“Harry.”_ He rubs at his forehead. “Please tell me you at least told him not to say anything to his friends.”

Harry fidgets. “It was more of an... unspoken understanding?” he tries.

Draco squeezes his eyes shut. “I should have known,” he grumbles. 

“Hey, I never said I was the smart one,” Harry jokes.

Draco’s head snaps up, his brows furrowed. “You’re plenty smart,” he says indignantly. “You just don’t apply yourself.” 

Harry raises his brows. It’s not like Draco to give compliments so freely. 

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him and make him take the vow. But I’m sure he won’t mention anything to anyone. Even _he’s_ not that dumb.”

Draco looks unimpressed. “Harry, never underestimate the extent of a wizard’s stupidity.” He sighs. “But I’m sure you’re right. He wouldn’t tell James or Lily about their own deaths.”

Harry nods in agreement. “Great. So what did you find in the library?”

Draco sits up straighter. “The library was quite useless, actually. Mostly records on Tom Riddle the student. Quidditch rosters, and such.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Then why do you look like you know something?”

Draco leans forward, his eyes glinting. “Because I do _._ The Slytherin common room turned out to be _much_ more helpful than the library.”

Harry wants to smack himself for missing such an obvious source of information. _Of course_ the Slytherins would know about Voldemort. Not to be stereotypical or anything, but the first Death Eaters _were_ Slytherins.

Harry leans forward to match Draco’s posture. “Was it your dad?” he asks cautiously. He’s not sure quite how sore of a subject Lucius is right now.

Draco, though, just rolls his eyes. “No, he’s still pretending I don’t exist.” He says it calmly, but Harry still notices the way his jaw clenches at the statement. “But Crabbe and Goyle’s parents were much more willing to talk. They were bragging about it, really.” Draco looks a little sad at the mention of Crabbe, and Harry reaches forward to place a hand on his shoulder. They’re both silent for a moment, remembering the flames. The fall. Crabbe had never been Harry’s favorite person, but he still understood how important he had been to Draco.

After a second, Draco clears his throat, and Harry hesitantly removes his hand. “Anyways. The Death Eaters have already started. As far as I know, it’s very new. But they were talking about an older, powerful wizard who had ‘the right ideas’ about pureblood culture.” Draco shivers.

Harry nods slowly. “So it’s already happening, then,” he says quietly. “But it’s early. We could still stop it.”

Draco looks up in alarm. “You’re going to fight him?” he asks, eyes wide. “Harry, that’s suicide. He’s in his prime. He’ll be stronger than he ever was when you fought him before.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m not saying that that’s the plan. Maybe we could get McGonagall involved, or the aurors. Or Dumbledore, if he ever comes back with the time turner.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

“But if that doesn’t work? Then yeah, I’ll do whatever I have to.” He meets Draco’s eyes. “Even if it means facing him again.”

Draco looks at him with wide eyes. “Harry,” he says quietly, “you have more bravery in your little finger than most people have in their entire bodies.” He looks away. “Including me,” he says, ashamed. 

Harry, without really thinking about it, reaches out to grab Draco’s hand. “Draco, you’re plenty brave,” he says seriously. “Just you _doing_ this is brave. I’m so grateful to you for helping me with this, you have no idea.”

Draco says nothing for a moment, staring down at their clasped hands. “It’s not entirely for selfless reasons, you know. I have my own motives.”

Harry nods, having expected as much. “I know. But it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. It doesn’t make you any less brave, or less of a good person.”

Draco looks up, startled. “You think I’m a good person?” he says hoarsely.

Harry nods. “The best,” he whispers back. The very air between them feels charged, and Harry feels as if they’re standing on the brink of something huge. He’s not sure what it is, but he holds his breath, waiting to find out.

Draco’s gaze flickers down to Harry’s mouth for a second, and Harry feels his heart beat quicker. What is _happening?_

Before he can find out though, loud chatter enters their corner of the library. “Oi, what’s the privacy spell up for?” James bellows. “You two looking at dirty magazines or something?” He winks at Harry.

Harry and Draco spring apart as if being pulled by magnets. Harry notices Remus looking between them thoughtfully, and he studiously avoids his gaze. Harry can still feel his heart struggling to beat at a normal pace. What was _that_ all about? 

“We were just studying,” Draco says quickly, face flushed. Harry looks over at him, and Draco avoids his eyes. James, oblivious as ever, smirks at them. 

“Riiight. Studying, is that what they call a little bit of _private time_ nowadays?” 

Harry’s face turns red. “We’re in the _library,”_ he protests.

Sirius slides in next to him in the library both and jostles his shoulder. “What, and you’ve never had a good wank in the library?” he teases. “You’ve _got_ to try it sometime.”

“Stop scandalizing my son, Black,” Lily says, appearing from the library entrance and joining them at the booth. She sighs exasperatedly, looking at Harry and Draco.

“I’m so sorry about them, boys. Would you like to study for Charms together?” she asks politely.

Sirius rolls his eyes. _“Bo- ring._ I’m out,” he says, sliding back out of the booth. He glances behind his shoulder. “Moony, you coming?” 

Remus bites his lip, looking torn between joining Sirius and studying with Lily and James. After a second, he sighs, resigned. “Where are we going?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking over to Sirius.

Sirius grins, grabbing at Remus’s arm and tugging him along excitedly. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

Harry just barely catches a glimpse of Remus’s blush as he gets dragged out of the library, and he fights back a smile. It’s good to see Sirius and Remus so happy. Harry hopes, for both their sakes, that they start dating soon. If they don’t, he might just knock their heads together and do it for them — it was almost painful to watch at this point.

Lily rolls her eyes and turns back to her textbooks. _“Boys._ I’ll never understand them.” She looks up, as if suddenly aware of her present company. “Er, no offense meant to you two, of course,” she says apologetically to Harry and Draco. She points a finger at James. _“You,_ I meant full offense to.”

James clutches a hand to his chest as if he had shot her. “You wound me, my love,” he pouts, “but here I am anyways, studying boring old charms with you.” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. Lily ducks away, but Harry sees a small smile on her face. He watches the scene with wistfulness. It’s nice to see his parents so happy, he thinks. He wishes he could have seen them like this earlier. He looks back at Draco, and is surprised to see him looking not at Lily and James, but at Harry himself. Harry raises an eyebrow, and Draco quickly clears his throat and turns back to his books.

Lily glances over to Draco as well, then down at his notes. Her expression quickly turns to one of intrigue. “Are you writing a paper on the Befuddlement Draught? I’ve never seen some of those ingredients used before.”

Draco looks up, seemingly happy to be talking about the subject. “You wouldn’t have. It’s a fairly new technique, but the added Scurvy grass helps clear the mind after the potion wears off. It really reduces the long-term effects. I can tell you more about it, if you’d like?” Draco’s perked up, looking for all the world like he’s dying to explain the potion in more depth. Harry feels like he and Hermoine would get along rather well, oddly. He smiles as he tries to imagine Hermoine’s response to that statement.

Lily nods excitedly. “That sounds delightful! Please, tell me all about it,” she says, rummaging in her bag for a quill. Draco grins back at her and wastes no time in explaining, using large, dramatic hand movements and animated facial expressions. He looks happier than Harry’s seen him in quite a while, save for when they played Quidditch the other day.

Harry shares a conspiratorial look with James, both silently laughing at the pair beside them. James and Harry eventually pair off to practice charms together, but Harry can’t stop looking over at Draco. At his shining hair, his broad grin, even the pointy jut of his chin that was somehow unfairly attractive.

Merlin, what has Harry got himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is a little on the shorter side, but I hope thats okay. I’ll try to have another chapter up around Christmas as a Christmas gift, or just a holiday season gift depending on what you celebrate :) A huge thank you goes out to every single person who has shown their appreciation for this fic so far, you guys really keep me going. I hope everyone has a fun and safe holiday season!
> 
> -H


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just some chistmas eve-eve fluff. enjoy.

It isn’t until Harry’s caught himself in the middle of his third daydream about Draco’s hair (third since that morning, that is) that he admits defeat. Contrary to popular belief, Harry isn’t actually an idiot. He knows himself, and he knows how to recognize when he likes someone. He just never thought that someone would be Draco Malfoy. The problem isn’t that Draco’s a boy — no, Harry had known he was bisexual since his rude awakening in the form of Cedric Diggory. The problem wasn’t even that Draco was his former rival — Harry liked to think they had both moved past that fact. No, the problem stemmed from the simple fact that Draco was posh, and brilliant, and elegantly attractive. Put simply, he was miles out of Harry’s league. 

There was also the fact that Draco was almost certainly straight. Harry hadn’t yet asked him about Pansy Parkinson (either because of jealousy or fear of having his suspicions about Draco’s sexuality confirmed, he wasn’t sure), but everyone at Hogwarts knew the two had dated for almost five years straight. Harry didn’t want to judge based on appearances — after all, he himself had never dated a bloke — but he knew that the chance of Draco liking men was slim at best. Harry was growing to enjoy their new friendship, and he didn’t want to destroy it right off the bat by asking Draco out.

“Something on your mind, Harry?”

Harry glances over to where Remus sits on the opposite couch, quill paused in the writing of his Transfiguration essay. They’re the only two in the Gryffindor common room, the majority of Gryffindors having left earlier that morning to return home for Christmas break. The Marauders had stayed, in order to spend more time with Harry before he left in a few weeks. Or rather, that was what they had told Harry, but Harry knew that Remus had a full moon coming up and that they had stayed for him as much as they had for Harry. No one had quite figured out if Harry knew about Remus yet, but it was quite entertaining to watch them dance around the subject.

Harry glanced over at the boy in question. He considered, and after a moment, he figured that if anyone would relate to his plight, it would be Remus.

“Yeah, actually. You know how I had a new smell in my Amortentia potion? And you asked if there was anyone special?”

Remus sets his parchment on a side table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Ah, I see,” he says. “Romantic problems. Well, I can certainly relate.” He looks curiously at Harry. “Who is it?”

Harry sighs. “You know the boy that I came with? The Slytherin?”

Remus grins. “I figured, but I didn’t want to assume. You two have good chemistry.” He breaks off, looking around the common room for a sign of any intruders. “Don’t tell the others,” he whispers. “James and Sirius have had a bet going since the first night, when we played Quidditch.” 

Harry’s momentarily taken aback by that, because he and Draco hadn’t even really been  _ friends _ at that point, before he realizes—

“Wait, so they don’t care? That he’s, you know, a bloke?”

Harry had never thought his parents to be the homophobic type, but that was the thing about being an orphan— you never knew for sure. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia certainly hadn’t approved.

Remus looks at him for a second, before bursting out in laughter.  _ “Your _ mum and dad? And Sirius? Homophobic? Merlin, could you  _ imagine?” _ He settles down, looking at Harry more seriously. “Harry, I promise you, I wouldn’t be friends with them if they were. I’ve been out to them since second year.” His gaze turns calculating. “What’s this about, then? Have you not come out to them yet? Were you worried?”

Harry fumbles for an excuse. “Er, yeah. It’s fairly new, my liking blokes. And it’s not that I was  _ worried,  _ but you know how hard it can be to come out. Even to people you know would accept you.” 

Remus nods in agreement, and puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, Harry. And honestly, I’d think the Slytherin part is the factor that they would have more of a problem with, but your dad already said that Draco’s the most decent Slytherin he’s ever met. That’s basically a stamp of approval, coming from him.” He pats Harry’s shoulder, then pulls away. “Look, it’s up to you if you want to tell them or not. But either way, I’ll be here for you. Okay?”

Harry tries his best not to tear up. Times like this are when he desperately misses the adult Lupin, who always had Harry’s back. “Thanks, Remus,” he whispers.

Harry shakes off the ache in his bones and tries to return to the conversation at hand. “Anyways, how are you doing? I know the full moon’s coming up.”

Remus stares at him for a second before letting out a derisive chuckle. “I should have known. Of course you know. We’ve been walking on eggshells around you for no reason,” he laughs. More seriously, he says, “Yeah, the moon’s on Friday. Christmas Eve, of all days. What a jolly time that’ll be.”

Harry rubs his shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, everyone will be here with you. And I’ve been working on my Animagus form, actually. Maybe I could get it down by Friday.” Harry was, in reality, quite far away from getting a solid transformation down, but maybe he could get Draco to help him practice. He had heard that Draco had registered his Animagus form over the summer, although no one knew what it was. 

Remus smiles. “That’s sweet, Harry, but Christmas Eve is only three days away. Besides, you should spend it doing something fun. Maybe you could spend it with Draco,” he grins, nudging Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry isn’t deterred. “I’ll ask him to come with me— he’s an Animagus too. I care about you, Remus. There’s nowhere I would rather be on Christmas Eve than with you and the Marauders.”

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Is  _ everyone  _ in the future an Animagus? I swear, it was much harder for James, Sirius, and Peter. It took them ages, and they wouldn’t stop complaining about it. It’s not like I  _ asked  _ them to do it, either.”

Harry shrugs. “The process has become a lot easier. And McGonagall taught classes over the summer to some of the more advanced students.” He looks back at Remus. “But you never answered my question. How are you?” he asks honestly.

Remus looks away. “Just the usual aches and pains, I suppose. A little bit of a temper, at times. It’s nothing I’m not used to.” He looks back at Harry. “Honestly, I’ve been more preoccupied with Sirius.”

Harry nods in understanding. “How’s that going? You two seem closer lately.”

Remus sighs. “I don’t know. On one hand, it makes me happy that he’s paying more attention to me, but on the other, he hasn’t done anything to indicate that he likes blokes, you know? Or that he likes  _ me.” _ He furrows his brow. “But something’s up with him. He seems upset, lately. Probably something to do with his family.”

Harry sits up straighter. The Black family was notorious for being one of the first to turn dark. If something was going on in Sirius’s family, it could mean Voldemort’s power was growing. It could be nothing, but Harry would bring it up to Draco just in case. 

“Maybe try and talk to him about it,” Harry suggests. “He might just need someone to listen.” 

Harry looks at the clock above the fireplace and almost jumps out of his seat. “Sorry, I’m late to meet Draco,” he explains to Remus. “But think about what I said!”

Remus nods, waving Harry off. “You too! And have a good time with Draco,” he calls, winking. 

Harry rolls his eyes, and takes off towards the astronomy tower.

***

Harry skids to a stop in front of an unimpressed Draco.

“I’m so sorry, Draco, I was—”

Draco doesn’t even bat an eye. “Can it, Potter. I’m used to your appalling tardiness habit by now. Merlin, are you _ ever  _ on time?”

Harry thinks this over for a moment. “Not really. But I was talking with Remus, and I have loads to tell you.” He sits down on the ledge next to Draco, who finally looks over at him, a single blonde eyebrow raised.

“Well, alright then. Out with it, I haven’t got all night.” Draco waves a hand in impatience. “I’ve got news of my own, you know.”

Harry hurries to explain, trying to remember all the important parts: the animagus transformation, the full moon on Christmas Eve, Sirius’s odd behavior.

“Do you think it could have something to do with his family? With Regulus?” Harry asks worriedly.

Draco looks concerned at the news. “I was actually going to bring that up,” he says cautiously. “I’ve been trying to get in good with Regulus, since the Black family’s allegiance to Voldemort was one of the first signs of trouble.” He leans forward, and Harry unconsciously mirrors him.

“At first, Regulus seemed like your average pureblood tosser. He reminds me a lot of myself at that age, you know?” Draco hunches his shoulders subconsciously. “All the... posturing, and acting like he’s better than everyone else. That sort of thing.”

Harry nods understandingly.

Draco furrows his brow. “But he’s been different, lately. More secretive. He looks like something’s weighing on him.” He looks up at Harry. “Harry, I think he’s already taken the Oath. He’s acting exactly like I did, when it happened to me.”

Harry nods solemnly, and places a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Alright. You try to get an in with Regulus, and I’ll try to talk to Sirius and get more information. But be careful, okay?”

Draco gives him a half-hearted smile. “Sure, Harry.” He rolls his shoulders back and sits up straighter. “Nevermind all that. I’ll help you with your animagus transformation, if you want. You said we’re going out to help Lupin on Christmas Eve?”

Harry nods. “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to,” he offers. “I just would like to be there for him.”

Draco looks up in surprise. “Harry. Of course I’ll come, don’t be ridiculous. You really think I’d let you go into a situation like that alone?” He scoffs. “It definitely beats spending Christmas Eve in the dungeons.” 

Draco looks sad for a moment, then seems to snap out of it, looking at Harry. “Anyways, back to your transformation. What step are you on?”

Harry sighs. “Visualization. I can get in the mindset of my animal just fine, but I’m having trouble completing the process.” He looks at Draco hopefully. “Maybe if you showed me your transformation, I would have a better example?”

Draco rolls his eyes and stands up, taking off his robe as he does. Harry studiously avoids looking at the lean muscles of his forearms. “If you wanted to see my animagus form, Harry, all you had to do was ask,” Draco chuckles teasingly. Harry flushes.

Draco closes his eyes for a moment, slowing down his breathing to a more deliberate pace. As Harry watches, Draco’s body slims down, then seems to disappear altogether. Harry peers down at the discarded pile of Draco’s clothes, and is met with two black eyes peering up at him.

“A snake! Brilliant!” Harry laughs excitedly. Draco’s snake form raises its head curiously.

_ “I almost forgot you were a Parseltongue,”  _ Draco’s smooth voice hisses.  _ “It’s strange, for you to still understand me when I’m like this.” _

Harry grins. “There’s no escaping me, I suppose,” he says cheerfully.

The Draco-snake regards him coolly. After a moment, his voice comes again.  _ “No. I suppose there isn’t.” _

Draco quickly transforms back to himself and clears his throat awkwardly. “Well,” he says, holding out his arms, “there you have it, I suppose.”

Harry claps politely, and Draco grins, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “All right, you tosser, it’s your turn. Show me what you’ve got.”

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. He tries to regulate his breathing, like Draco had.  _ In. Out. In. Out.  _ He is one with his animal. He feels the fire on his feathers, feels the wind beneath his wings. He tries to imagine reaching out, taking flight... and immediately hits a wall. He groans aloud.

“That’s all I’ve got,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “The visualization always goes well, but after a certain point, it’s like I’m stuck.”

Draco nods, seemingly deep in thought. “It looked like you were doing great,” he says, “but after a minute or two you started to tense up.” He regards Harry for another moment, then seemingly comes to a decision. “Try it again,” he says encouragingly. “Walk me through it.”

Harry closes his eyes. Regulates his breathing. 

“What do you feel?” Draco prompts.

“Fire. It’s a part of me,” Harry says slowly. “It’s so close I can feel it burning my wings. But it doesn’t hurt. It feels right.”

“Good. Keep going.”

Bolstered by the praise, Harry reaches deeper inside of himself. “Change. I’m constantly changing, being reborn. Rising again.” 

There’s a moment of pause. “A phoenix,” Draco whispers softly, awed. “Of course.” He clears his throat. “Good job, Harry. What else?”

Harry’s close this time. He can feel it. “Flight. I want to fly. I think I’m ready.” He’s so close he can almost feel the wind ruffling his feathers.

“Harry. Let go,” Draco says quietly. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

And Harry does.

*** 

Harry’s in a brilliant mood the next day during the Christmas Hogsmeade trip. Harry had mastered his transformation in a span of two days, and he felt great. Draco had been incredibly impressed, which made Harry feel even better— Draco was notoriously hard to impress. Harry had been a little nervous wondering what Draco would think about his phoenix form — it was the rarest animagus form, and everyone had expected Harry to be a stag, like his father. Harry liked his animagus form, but sometimes he felt as if it was just another thing that made him stand out from the crowd. That may seem like a good thing to most people, but not Harry. Most days, all Harry wanted was to blend in.

Luckily, Draco had loved the phoenix. He had said it was perfect for Harry, and it really was. Harry loved flying more than anything, and now he had more than one way to do it. Harry owed it all to Draco— without him, Harry would still be stuck. He needed some sort of way to thank him.

What he really needs, Harry thinks as he looks at the endless row of shops in Hogsmeade, is the perfect Christmas present. He had already bought gifts for everyone else — new patches for Sirius’s jacket, a racing broom for James, a new bestselling spellbook for Lily, and an infinite bag of Bertie’s chocolates for Remus — but Draco was a puzzle. Harry wanted his gift to be perfect. But what do you buy someone who already has all the material wealth they could ever want?

Harry scours Hogsmeade for hours until he finds it. In the window display of Dervish and Banges sits the most beautiful telescope Harry’s ever seen. Draco loved constellations, and could name all of them. Frequently, when Harry and Draco went out to the astronomy tower late at night, Draco would spend hours pointing out the stars to Harry and explaining how they got their names. He did this, supposedly, with the aim of ‘educating’ Harry, but Harry truthfully had paid more attention to Draco than he had to the stars.

Harry needs that telescope.

He rushes inside, trying his best to push through the mob of crowded customers up to the front desk. 

“Sir, how much for that telescope in the front display?” Harry calls to the shopkeeper, an elderly man who looks to be just on the brink of death.

The old man looks him up and down. “Seven thousand galleons, kid. Much more than you can afford, anyways. Get lost.”

Harry doesn’t blink an eye. “I’ll take it.”

The old man raises his eyebrows, and turns to face Harry more. “Are you sure, lad? You’re not spending your whole life savings on this, are you?” He laughs at that, a mean, dried up laugh that turns into a hacking cough at the end.

Harry looks at him with poorly-veiled disdain, but holds out the money anyways.  _ It’s for Draco,  _ he reminds himself. Besides, Harry’s always had loads more money than he quite knows what to do with.

The shopkeeper seems to transform into a different person once he gets a good look at the money in Harry’s hand. “Why, of course, sir,” he says primly, standing up straighter. “Would you like that gift-wrapped?”

Harry fights not to roll his eyes. “Yes, please,” he says, smiling thinly. “And sent to Hogwarts on Christmas Day, if you will.”

The shopkeeper looks up from where he’s hurriedly stuffing Harry’s money in the cash register. “Of course, sir. Right away, sir.”

Harry snorts and walks out of the store. It’s only once he leaves that he realizes, as rude as the shopkeeper had been, it had been kind of nice to not be fawned over just because of his celebrity status. The shopkeeper had just seen him as a kid from Hogwarts. A  _ rich  _ kid, but still. Just a kid. Harry smiles.

As soon as he walks out onto the street, he’s nearly bowled over.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you— Draco?”

Draco looks flushed from the cold, bundled up in a posh winter coat. “Hey, Harry,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Did you finish your shopping?”

Harry smiles. “Just bought my last gift. What about you?”

Draco nods. He looks jumpier than usual, almost nervous. It’s not a look Harry usually sees on him. “Yeah — actually, I was looking for you.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What for?” he prompts.

Draco rubs his hands together. “Er. I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to pop over to the Three Broomsticks? Maybe grab a pint?” His cheeks look red, but it’s probably just a mixture of the cold and Harry’s wishful thinking.

For a moment, Harry closes his eyes and imagines that this is Draco asking him out on a date. It would be nice, he thinks, a date with Draco. But he’ll take what he can get, and a pint together as friends is just as good. Or so he’ll tell himself.

He opens his eyes. Smiles in what he hopes is a normal, friendly way. “Sure, Draco. That sounds great.”

Draco lets out a breath, grinning wildly. “Really?”

“Of course. What’s Christmas Eve-Eve for if not for spending time with friends?” Harry jokes half-heartedly.

It might just be his imagination, but it looks like Draco’s face falls a little bit. “Oh. Right, of course.” They start towards the pub, and Draco looks back at Harry. “Wait. Christmas Eve-Eve?”

Harry grins. “You know. The day before Christmas Eve? A holiday in its own right, for sure.”

Draco nods, still looking slightly confused. “Ah. Is that a muggle thing?” He pauses. “Not that that’s bad, or anything,” he adds quickly.

Harry laughs. “No, I think your family’s probably just too posh to celebrate it.” He raises an eyebrow. “Not that _ that’s  _ a bad thing, necessarily.”

Draco’s hand lingers near Harry’s, and he swears he can feel the heat from his fingers radiating in the space between them. Harry wonders what would happen if he was brave enough to reach across the space and link their hands. He’s supposed to be the brave one, for Merlin’s sakes.

Draco looks over at him and smiles softly. Harry feels his heart skip a beat. 

“Well. To Christmas Eve-Eve, then,” Draco says.

Harry smiles back. “To Christmas Eve-Eve,” he echoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, i’m sorry for not including the Christmas Eve and Christmas scenes in this chapter. I was going to, but I honestly just got so worn out with this chapter I felt like it was better to cut it here. Best case scenario, the next chapter would be out on Christmas, but more realistically, it’ll probably be out sometime in the week after Christmas. Second of all, I just wanted to apologize now to any super detail-oriented fans that like strictly canon fics. Yes, I am aware that the animagus process is completely different than what I wrote. Did I want to work Draco and Harry holding mandrake leaves in their mouths for a month into the plot? Not really. I did get my inspiration for the animagus process from another fic, but unfortunately I can’t remember which one it is. If anyone knows, feel free to leave it in the comments! There are also a lot of other non canon details I’ll be throwing in to work with the plot, so hopefully that doesn’t throw anyone off too much. With that out of the way, I really wanted to thank everyone for their continued support of this fic. I got some super sweet comments and well-thought out feedback on the last chapter, and I appreciate every single one. I hope you guys have a great Christmas, or holiday season depending on what you celebrate!
> 
> -H❤️


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a good mix of Christmas angst and fluff. Merry Christmas, guys.❤️

Harry’s more than a little drunk off of firewhisky when he works up the nerve to ask Draco about Pansy Parkinson.

Draco looks up at him through his lashes, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. “Pansy? What about her?”

Harry shrugs, stirring his straw idly in his drink. “I mean, you must miss her. She’s your girlfriend, right?” He tries to act like he’s not incredibly interested in Draco’s answer, but he’s not quite sure he succeeds. 

Draco stills for a moment, before bursting into loud laughter. He’s drunk almost as much as Harry, and it shows. His usually posh, tidy demeanor has loosened into something softer, made evident by the slight flush to his cheeks and the dazed expression in his eyes. He looks beautiful.

“Pansy? My _girlfriend?_ Merlin, Harry, is that what you thought?” He grins, wide and relaxed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Pans, but we wouldn’t last a day as a couple. We’d kill each other.”

Harry lets out a long breath and struggles to keep his expression neutral, even though it feels like fireworks have gone off in his stomach. “Oh.”

Draco pauses. “Besides, I’m— _otherwise inclined,_ if you catch my meaning.” He looks back at his drink wearily. “I probably wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t absolutely sloshed right now.”

The fireworks in Harry’s stomach have turned into a full-blown parade. He racks his brain for an appropriate response. “Hey, we’re friends,” he says, in what he hopes is a comforting tone. “You can tell me anything.” There. That sounded appropriately friendly. Good job, Harry.

Then, to his horror, his mouth opens without his permission. “Besides, I am too.”

He groans internally. _Good job, Harry_.

Draco looks at him, surprised. “Really? But you dated female Weasley.” He pauses, sheepish. “Ginny. Sorry,” he corrects. 

Harry laughs, maybe a bit too loudly. He can’t help it, Draco’s just hilarious. Even when Harry’s _not_ drunk. “No,” he hiccups, “I like both. I’m bi— what’s it? Bisexual,” he says firmly.

Draco nods intently, as if this makes all the sense in the world. “Ah. It was Diggory, wasn’t it?”

 _Well, yes,_ Harry thinks, _but also you._ Out loud, he says, “Yeah, it was.”

Draco leans into Harry’s side, and Harry can’t help but lean back. “I’m sorry about what happened to him,” Draco says quietly. 

Harry sobers a bit. “It’s not your fault.”

Draco nods. “I know.” He turns to look at Harry. “It’s not yours either,” he whispers.

Which is absolute bullshit. If Draco had been there, he would have known that’s not true. Harry was the one who had insisted they take the cup together, Harry was the one who had stood there uselessly while Cedric was killed. It was Harry’s fault, and he thought about it every goddamn day.

To Draco, he says, “Sure.”

Draco sits up, placing a hand on Harry’s cheek. “Hey. It absolutely was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

They’re so close that Harry could lean forward and kiss Draco. Not that he would want him to. Especially now, as they’re talking about Cedric’s death. _Time and place, Harry,_ he scolds himself. Merlin, he needs to get out of here before he makes a fool of himself.

Harry swallows hard. “Thanks, Draco,” he says softly.

Draco’s eyes flicker down to his lips. Harry hopes he doesn’t have any food on them. _That_ would be embarrassing.

“Anytime,” Draco returns, just as softly.

They’re interrupted by a loud crash on the other side of the bar, and they both jump away from each other.

Harry clears his throat, his cheeks flushing red. He racks his brain for something, _anything,_ to change the subject to.

“So,” he tries. “Any progress with Regulus?”

Draco stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head slightly, as if to clear it. “Er, yeah. I think I’ve gotten on his good side.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Oh? How did you manage that?”

Draco pulls a sour face. “Just had to act like my smarmy fifth year self, and I fit right in. He’s been confiding in me quite a bit.”

Harry leans forward intently. “And?”

Draco lowers his voice. “He knows about Voldemort, all right. He hasn’t mentioned him by name, but he’s bragged about how he’s been hanging around an older, powerful wizard.” He looks thoughtful. “I don’t think he’s taken the oath yet. We can probably still get to him, Harry. Change his mind.”

Harry looks at the desperation in Draco’s eyes, and wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. What if Harry had treated Draco the way they were treating Regulus? What if he had offered to protect him and his family, what if he had offered him a way out? Harry knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have taken it.

He nods definitely, looking Draco steadily in the eye. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Draco sighs in relief. “I’m glad that’s sorted,” he jokes. “Kind of a difficult subject to think about while I’m pissed.”

Harry laughs, then remembers their earlier conversation. He clears his throat. “So, hey, if you’re not dating anyone, is there anyone you have your eye on? I’m sure anyone would be lucky to have you,” he stammers. The back of his mind is very angry with him for being so forward, but he can’t find it in himself to be upset. He’ll save that for tomorrow.

Draco looks at him consideringly. “Yeah, actually. There is a bloke I’ve got my eye on. A bit of a tosser, really.” Harry laughs, but his heart is beating fast in his chest. Who is this guy that Draco’s talking about? What makes him any better than Harry?

“Yeah?”

Draco chuckles. “Yeah. Sweet, though. And brave. Miles out of my league, of course.”

Harry frowns. “I’m sure he’s not. Unless he’s literally a prince or something, I doubt it.” Harry stops and considers. “Actually, I’m sure you could date a prince, if you put your mind to it.”

Draco’s fighting off a smile. “Thanks, Harry. That’s really sweet. But no, he’s not a prince. Actually,” he leans forward a bit, “I asked him out tonight. Or, I tried to, anyways. But I’m not quite sure he got the message.” Draco sighs. “Maybe he just doesn’t feel the same way.”

Harry’s on the verge of anger now. Who the fuck _is_ this guy? What sort of idiot would turn down a date with Draco? Don’t they know how lucky they are?

“That’s ridiculous.” Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Who is this guy? Do you need me to fight him? I will, just say the word.”

Draco’s outright laughing now. “Harry, no,” he gets out. He puts his head in his hands, then looks back up at Harry. “Harry, it’s —”

Someone taps Harry on the shoulder, and both he and Draco spin around. Harry’s about ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind until he sees who it is.

“Remus? What’s wrong?”

Remus is red in the face, obviously holding back tears. 

“It’s Sirius. He’s missing.”

***

Now, in Sirius’s case, ‘missing’ had actually meant that he had left just about the vaguest excuse note in history, then took his motorcycle home just before Christmas Eve. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t be a big deal. What _did_ make it a big deal, however, was that Remus hadn’t spent a full moon without Sirius since his third year. What made it _more_ of a big deal was that Sirius’s excuse note highly insinuated that he was in trouble.

 _Dear Marauders,_ it read, _(and Harry),_

_Everything is just fine, so there’s no need to worry. But you all know how my family is. They’re in a bit of trouble, and I’m needed at home. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Moony, I’m so sorry to miss the full moon. You know I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important._

_Love,_

_Sirius._

James pales after reading the note that Remus had showed them. “He hasn’t gone home in years,” he whispers in disbelief. “He even spends the _summers_ with me. He must be in real trouble if he was willing to go back.”

At this, Remus breaks out into a fresh set of tears.

Lily hands him a tissue and rubs at his back. “Hey, it’s alright,” she soothes. “Sirius is strong. He’ll be okay, I promise.”

Harry and Draco (who had both taken Pepper-Up potions since leaving the bar) exchange a worried glance, but Harry nods in agreement. “Lily’s right,” he says. “Sirius is going to be fine.”

Remus eyes them suspiciously. “You know something,” he says quietly. “I saw that look. You two know something about this.” 

James and Lily turn to them at this. Harry glances over at the corner to where Peter is sitting silently. Harry hasn’t seen much of him since their confrontation, except to make him take an unbreakable vow to never betray James and Lily. After that, they had stayed out of each other’s way out of a mutual unspoken agreement. 

Harry sighs. “I’m going to need to talk to Draco for a second,” he says finally. “And Peter.”

Remus looks at him in outrage. _“Peter?”_ he says incredulously. “You’ll tell _Peter_ but not me?”

James nods in agreement. “Yeah, Harry, what gives?”

_Oh, nothing much. Just you and mum’s imminent deaths that I’m desperately trying to prevent._

Harry holds out his hands placatingly. “Hey,” he says slowly. “I’m doing my best. There’s some things that you guys probably shouldn’t know about, because it involves you. I’m no time-travel expert, or anything.” He sighs. “I wish Dumbledore were here,” he says more quietly.

Draco places a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need him,” he says. “You’re doing great on your own.”

Harry smiles weakly. “Thanks, Draco.”

They turn to walk out, and Harry waves a hand at Peter for him to follow.

Once the door closes, and Draco casts a _Muffliato_ for good measure, Peter looks at Harry nervously.

“Does this have to do with—”

“Probably,” Harry sighs. 

Draco glares at Peter. “For the record, I think Harry was much easier on you than you deserved. Don’t say anything unless it’s helpful, you got it?”

Peter almost trips over himself in his haste to agree.

Harry gives Draco a look, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine. But I stand by what I said.”

Harry rubs at his temples. “Anyways,” he says, “do we think this has to do with Voldemort?”

Draco nods. “I’ll bet almost anything,” he says seriously. “They’re probably trying to convince Sirius to join.”

Harry considers this. “Well, we know he doesn’t. But what about Regulus? Is it too late?”

Draco pales. “I’m not sure.”

Peter raises a hand timidly. 

“Yes, Peter?”

“Um, is there anything I can do to help?”

Harry’s about to say no, when he realizes that there actually is.

“Yes.” Harry leans forward, looking directly into Peter’s eyes. “Peter, I need you to go to the Black mansion after Christmas and observe what’s happening. Use your animagus form. Report back to us, okay?”

Peter nods fervently. “Of course.”

Draco looks at Harry, impressed. “Smart,” he says approvingly. Harry fights off a blush. _Not now._

Harry addresses Draco. “As for Regulus, I’m not sure if there’s much we can do right now. We need to be here for Remus. I’m not sure he could handle it if another person left.”

Draco nods in agreement. “You’re right. But after Christmas, we have to think of something. I don’t want him to make the same mistakes I did.”

Harry nods. “If Peter reports that Regulus is going to join up, we’ll think of something. Okay? I promise.” 

Draco looks relieved. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Of course.”

Peter looks at them awkwardly. “So, are we done, or...”

Draco turns to him. “Hey, watch it. You’re on thin ice, rat.”

Harry fights off a laugh. “Sure, Peter, that’s it.”

For now.

***

Come Christmas Eve, Harry was far more stressed than he had anticipated. They had managed to calm Remus down, but no one was sure of the effect missing Sirius would have on his transformation. Harry hoped he and Draco’s presence would be enough to bridge the gap, but he knew that they were no replacement for Sirius in Remus’s eyes.

The walk to the Forbidden Forest is dead silent.

“Hey, are you okay?” Harry asks Remus softly. He’s been twitchy and irritable all day, but now he just looked depressed.

Remus looks back at him and sighs. “Honestly? No, not really.” He looks around and lowers his voice. “Harry, do you know anything about werewolf social dynamics?”

Harry shakes his head. All he knew about werewolves were what Remus had told him before he had died, which was, needless to say, not much.

Remus lingers by the back of the group with Harry, spacing them out a few feet. Draco looks back at Harry questioningly, and he waves him on. Draco hesitates for a moment, but keeps walking.

“Okay, so basically wolves travel in packs.” Harry nods.

Remus rubs the back of his neck. “So the marauders are my pack. The wolf is used to them. They’re family. And since I’m comfortable around you and Draco, you two are pack, too.” Harry blinks, oddly touched by this.

“But with Sirius missing, the wolf will know something is wrong. Especially since—” Remus lowers his voice to a whisper. “Um. The wolf may kind of consider Sirius to be its mate.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Like—”

Remus blushes. “Exactly like that, yeah. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Harry privately thinks that the sentiment is sweet, but he nods his agreement anyways.

“Remus, I know this full moon might be a little bit harder for you. But we’re here for you. And we’ll help however we can.”

Remus rubs at his (suspiciously wet) eyes. “Thanks, Harry. You didn’t have to come, but I’m glad you did.”

Harry pulls Remus into a hug. “Anything for you, Remus.”

From the front of the pack, James calls out, “Fifteen minutes to the full moon!” 

Harry and Remus break away, and rejoin the group.Remus catches up to James. “You know what, James? You raised a bloody awesome kid.” 

James grins. “I sure did, didn’t I?” They both smile back at Harry, and Harry tries to cover up the pang of guilt that hits his chest.

They reach a small clearing in the middle of the woods. By unspoken agreement, Draco transforms first, followed by Peter. Draco slithers up to Harry, and he reaches down to pat his head.

“Hey, thanks for coming out, Draco,” Harry says happily. “It means a lot to me.”

Draco rests his head on Harry’s knee. _“Thanks for inviting me,”_ he replies easily.

Harry smiles at Draco for a second before he realizes he’s being stared at.

“Harry,” says Remus. “I didn’t know you were a parseltongue.”

Harry starts, having completely forgotten he was speaking parseltongue at all. “Er, yeah. I have been since I was a kid.” He doesn’t meet James’s eyes, too scared to see his reaction. “Um. Do you guys think it’s weird? A lot of people thought it was weird, when they first found out.” 

Harry supposed it was a bit weird, seeing as how it was a leftover trait from being Voldemort’s horcrux, but he had grown to accept it as part of himself.

James blinks, then breaks into a grin. “Lucky for you, Harry, we’re not most people. I, for one, think it’s wicked cool.” He looks over at Remus. “Right, Moony?”

Remus looks over at Harry. “Mate, in about five minutes I’m going to turn into a werewolf. If you seriously think I’m going to judge you for being able to talk to snakes, you’re out of your mind.”

Harry smiles in relief. “Thanks, guys,” he says sheepishly.

James nudges him on the shoulder. “Anytime, son. Now, show us your animagus form already. I’m dying from the suspense.” 

Harry takes a deep breath. Feels his surroundings. Feels Draco’s snake form, still coiled soundly around his leg. Lets go.

Distantly, he hears, “A fucking _phoenix?”_

Harry caws in delight and swoops high in the air. It’s a beautiful night for flying. The wind whips through the trees, and the moon shines bright and full in the night sky. The moon— there was something about the moon—

A piercing howl breaks through the night. _Remus!_

Harry swoops back down, to where a large grey wolf sits sniffling in a clearing. His head swivels wildly around, as if searching for something. In distress, the wolf lets out a cry.

Harry approaches cautiously, but the wolf accepts him easily. There’s a bright coral snake wrapped around his left paw, a small brown rat curled up in his tail, and a large stag nosing at his neck. Harry perches on the wolf’s back, and tries to send him calming energy.

_I’m here, Remus. We’re here._

The wolf lets out a few more cries, then curls in on himself. He accepts the comfort, but Harry can tell that he’s still sad. Lonely, even when surrounded by pack.

Harry nestles in, and prepares for a long night.

***

It’s Christmas morning, and they’re all fucking exhausted. Harry loves Christmas, but it’s hard to get in the spirit when he’s been up all night trying to console a desolate wolf. On top of that, he’s missing Ron and Hermoine fiercely. It’ll be the first Christmas in a long while that he hasn’t spent at the Burrow.

Lily, who hadn’t been with them the night before, bustles into the Gryffindor common room with a bustle of energy. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

She stops short when she takes in the energy of the room. “Merlin, you all look frightful.” She walks over to Remus and hugs him tightly. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Sirius is fine, I’m sure,” she soothes.

Remus lets out a soft sniffle. “Thanks, Lils. But I’m okay, really.” He looks at Harry and James, giving them a small smile. “This lot did a good job of keeping me company.”

James walks over to Lily, giving her a quick kiss. “It would have been better if you were there,” he cajoles. “I keep telling you to get an animagus form.”

Lily sniffs haughtily. “Unregistered? I don’t think so. I’ll wait until I graduate and do it _legally,_ thank you very much.” She glances at Harry. “Please tell me you’re registered.”

Harry nods quickly. “Of course,” he says hastily. “Learned from McGonagall herself.”

Lily nods in approval. It’s a good thing she doesn’t know half of the illegal things Harry’s done. She would probably have a heart attack.

James surveys the room. “Well, we’ve got Lils, Remus, Peter, and Harry. Just waiting on—”

Draco bursts into the room as if on cue, looking flustered.

“Well, well, well,” Harry teases. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you late to something.”

Draco sets down his gifts and scowls. “It’s the bloody Fat Lady,” he grumbles. “She wouldn’t let me in. A real piece of work, she is. Reminds me of my Great Aunt Walburga.”

Harry shudders. “I’ve met your Great Aunt Walburga,” he reminds him. “In portrait form, that is. She’s definitely worse.”

Draco nods in agreement.

James clears his throat. “Well, if you two are done flirting, we can get on with opening gifts.” Harry flushes and avoids Draco’s gaze.

Despite the somber mood from earlier, opening presents goes fairly well. Remus and Lily both get a myriad of school-related gifts, while James receives pranking supplies (from Remus and Peter), a scrapbook (from Lily), a golden, limited edition snitch (from Draco), and a new racing broom from Harry. 

When it comes time for Draco to open Harry’s gift, he’s irrationally nervous. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he already has the same one? Or, worst of all, what if he sees right through the present to Harry’s affection for him?

What actually happens is this.

Draco’s eyes grow wide. His mouth drops open slightly. “Harry, you didn’t.”

Harry shuffles his feet, suddenly finding the carpet extremely interesting. “Is that... good? Bad?” he guesses.

When he looks back up, Draco’s eyes are welling up with tears. Harry looks on in alarm. _Oh Merlin, he hates it._

“Harry. This telescope is _seven thousand galleons.”_

There’s a muffled gasp from Peter, before he’s quickly shushed by the marauders.

Harry rubs his scar, a nervous tic. “You said you liked the constellations,” he says quietly. “Look if you don’t like it, I can take it back—”

He’s cut off with an arm full of Draco. Harry, still in shock, rests his head on Draco’s shoulder. Is he— _hugging_ him? “Oh.”

Draco sniffles. “Harry, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

Harry relaxes into the hug, rubbing Draco’s back gently. “Merry Christmas, Draco.”

Draco pulls back and wipes at his eyes hurriedly. “It’s just— now I feel dumb about what I got you.”

Harry furrows his brow. “I’m sure it’s great,” he says in confusion.

Draco roots around under the tree, pulling out an oddly lumpy package. “Um. I wrapped it myself,” he says embarrassedly. Harry smiles.

He unwraps it to find a soft red scarf. He’s a bit confused, but he pulls it around his neck anyways. He’s not sure why Draco wanted to get him a scarf, but it’s automatically his favorite present regardless.

Harry grins at Draco. “Thanks! It’s great,” he says genuinely.

Draco huffs. “Just— let me explain.”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“It’s just that, er, over the years, I’ve kind of kept an eye on you, you know? Not that I was stalking you, or anything. Well. Maybe. But you were, too!” Draco takes a breath, then continues determinedly. 

“I know that every year, Mrs. Weasley knits you a sweater. But we’re not home right now, and you won’t be getting your sweater. So I _was_ going to make you a sweater, but that would be weird, and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to replace her, or anything. Um. Because obviously you care about her, and the Weasleys, and I’m sure you miss them. So I knitted you a scarf instead. It’s got warming charms, and calming charms, and a little bit of a protection charm thrown in there, too, because you’re always running into trouble because you’re a _stupid Gryffindor—_ Um. Anyways. That’s it.” Draco pants slightly, out of breath. He looks at Harry. Harry looks back.

“My mum helped me make it,” Draco says sheepishly.

Harry blinks back tears, and folds Draco into another hug. 

“I’m so glad you’ve been talking to your mum,” he says softly. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten, Draco, I swear.”

From behind them, James snorts. “What about my limited edition trading cards I got you, eh? I see how it is, Harry. Kids are so ungrateful these days.”

Harry laughs loudly. “I’m just so glad I’m here with all of you guys,” he says to the room at large. He looks back at Draco, and smiles. 

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

And so it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that at the end there I kind of just imagined the marauders sitting there watching Draco and Harry with some popcorn in hand? Anyone else? No?  
> Anyways, I’m super glad I got to finish this chapter on time, and even made it longer than my usual chapters. It practically wrote itself, I swear. I will say, though, I have no idea where the angst came from. It just appeared.  
> I look forward to hearing everyone’s feedback and ideas! Merry Christmas if you celebrate it :) I’ll estimate that the next chapter will be up in a week or two. (P.S: you may notice there is now a chapter count on this fic. It’s not a hard limit, just a guess :) )
> 
> -H ❤️


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buckle down for some plot, and a bit of pre-war angst.

Sirius’s old bedroom at Grimmauld Place is dark. A fine layer of dust coats every surface, yet the room as a whole looks as if it were untouched for the last two years. His old Muggle posters still hang on the walls, a dirty pair of black Converse lay scattered on the floor, and a general sense of unease permeates the air. 

He hates it.

Sirius hasn’t been home (not that it really ever  _ was  _ home) in two years. He’s never once, in those two years, felt the need to return. In fact, Sirius would have happily stayed away for the rest of his life, if it wasn’t for Regulus.

Regulus, who Sirius had grown to begrudgingly dislike, because of his attitude and his principles and the general  _ everything _ about him, but who he still cared for simply because they were brothers. Brothers who shared nothing but the blood in their veins, true, but brothers nonetheless.

Even if Regulus was a stuck-up Slytherin twat, he and Sirius had still been friends once. In their childhood years, they had been quite literally inseparable. They had rode training brooms together, played tricks on their cousins together, and, most importantly, suffered through their family trauma together. Sort of creates a lifelong bond, that one.

Sirius hated how the Black family had corrupted his baby brother. Regulus had gone from being his fun childhood companion to a stuck-up snob in the blink of an eye, and Sirius couldn’t figure out how it had happened. He thought he had done everything right, been a good role model as an older brother, but evidently he was wrong. He had lectured Regulus until he was blue in the face about Muggle equality and how pureblood culture was a load of shit, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Nothing got through to him.

Still, when Sirius had learned that Regulus was in trouble, he came running.

_ Dear Sirius,  _ the note had read, painstakingly formal,

_ I hope this finds you well. There has been a development back home. I hate to interrupt your holiday, but you are needed with a manner of urgency. Please come quickly, as it may be too late if you delay. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Regulus Arcturus Black. _

In Regulus-speak, this essentially meant he was fucked and needed help as soon as possible.

Sirius had gone without any hesitation.

Well, maybe one hesitation.

Sirius hated leaving Remus on a full moon. He had never done it before, and he never planned on doing it again. Sirius was worried sick about how Remus would fare without him  _ (just fine, because he doesn’t need you,  _ the cruel part of his brain had theorized), but it felt especially cruel to leave him on Christmas Eve. Sirius cared about Remus more than he ever had anyone else, for reasons unknown (well, slightly known, but Sirius tried not to think about it), and it pained him to run off, even if it was for important reasons. He could only hope that Remus would forgive him.

Hopefully this thing with Regulus was worth it.

“Reg?” Sirius calls to the empty house. “You here? I got your letter,” he shouts, wandering down the hall. If after all this, Regulus isn’t even  _ here, _ Sirius is going to be pissed off. He can’t help but feel worried, though. The house is empty, which isn’t entirely unusual on its own, but there’s also a sinister feel in the air that Sirius can’t place. Like something horrible had happened here. Granted, plenty of bad things  _ had _ happened here, over the years, but this felt different somehow. More important.

“Sirius. Thank Merlin, you came.”

Sirius nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Regulus’s voice behind him, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Sirius has the sneaking suspicion that he apparated in, since there had been no trace of him before. He turns to face Regulus, who looks— well, he looks like shit, to put it bluntly. Dark rings encircle his eyes, and his frame is more gaunt than usual. His clothes look like they haven’t been changed in weeks, and they hang off of him loosely. 

“Of course I came,” Sirius says slowly, growing increasingly concerned. Warning bells begin to go off in his head. Something strange was definitely going on. “Reg, what’s wrong? Where is everyone? And no offense, but you look horrible.”

Regulus glances around the hallway, seemingly panicked. “Sirius, we can’t talk here. It’s not safe.” He holds out his arm for a Side-Along, and Sirius warily takes it, bracing himself for the familiar lurch in his stomach.

The walls of Grimmauld Place fade away, replaced by an outdoors clearing. Sirius sits down on a nearby log, trying to dispel his sudden nausea. He  _ hates _ apparating. 

“You’re not supposed to do magic outside of Hogwarts,” Sirius jokes weakly, looking up at Regulus.

Regulus, to his credit, ignores him, sitting down in the grass. Sirius stares uncomprehendingly, unable to believe that Regulus would willingly get grass stains on his pants. He tries to stitch together the Regulus in his mind (posh, bratty, always rattling on about pureblood supremacy) with the Regulus in front of him (worn down, in old clothes, sitting in the bloody  _ dirt). _ He’s not quite sure he succeeds.

Regulus takes a deep breath. “Sirius, our family is in trouble. And I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Sirius furrows his brow. “Reg, I don’t care about them. I care about  _ you,  _ even though you’re a pompous Slytherin asshole.” He waits for a retort, but none comes. Discomfited, he continues, more sincerely. “I came because you were in trouble. What’s wrong?”

Regulus puts his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. “Everything’s been horrible since you left, Sirius.” To Sirius’s horror, Regulus begins to cry, though he tries to hide it behind his shaking hands. 

“I’ve tried to please our family. I’ve tried to be the perfect son. But it’s gone too far. I can’t do what they’re asking me to do, Sirius. I can’t.”

Sirius slides off of his log to sit on the grass beside Regulus, grass stains be damned. “What are they asking you to do, Reg?” he asks quietly, placing a gentle hand on his back.

Regulus takes a deep breath. “There’s a wizard that’s been making himself well-known with the pureblood families. At first I thought he was just old-fashioned, like our family is. Believes in pureblood supremacy, and all that.” Sirius nods slowly, taking in this new information. Of course, ‘old-fashioned’ wasn’t quite the way that Sirius would describe the Black family (more like pure fucking evil), but he holds his tongue. 

“He’s been living in our house, Sirius.” Sirius doesn’t quite understand the magnitude of this statement, but he nods anyways.

“Okay. Why?”

Regulus struggles to find the words. “He’s using it as a sort of... headquarters.”

Sirius doesn’t understand. “Headquarters? For what?”

“He’s been recruiting people. Purebloods, like our family. He makes them take an oath to obey him, and do his bidding.”

Sirius feels a shiver run down his spine. This is far worse than he’d expected. “And what... is his bidding, exactly?”

Regulus hesitates. “He wants to kill all the mudbloods,” he says quietly. “And the Muggles. He says he wants to cleanse society.” He pauses. “Sirius, I may not like Muggles, but I don’t want them  _ dead.” _

“And he wants you to join him?” Sirius asks, already knowing the answer. “Regulus, you can’t.” He’s growing increasingly panicked, but tries to stay calm, for Regulus’s sake. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

Regulus shrugs. “I’m telling you, aren’t I?”

Sirius shakes his head. “I mean, like... the Aurors. McGonagall.  _ Anyone. _ This bloke sounds dangerous.” More than dangerous, Sirius thinks privately. Whoever this wizard was, he sounded fucking insane. “Who is he, anyways?”

Regulus lowers his voice to a whisper, looking around the clearing to ensure that they were alone. (Neither he or Sirius spot the inconspicuous grey rat scuttling below the undergrowth of the forest.)

Regulus leans forward. 

“He calls himself Voldemort.”

***

Harry can’t stop pacing. His brain has been working overtime, worried sick about Sirius. He knows, logically, that he would be fine (for now, anyways), but he couldn’t stop wondering. What if he and Draco had changed things somehow? What if Sirius was forced to become a Death Eater? What if he died? What if Harry couldn’t save him and Regulus? Had he fucked everything up?

“Harry.” Harry turns to look at Draco, who’s lying on the couch of the Gryffindor common room with a book open on his lap. Draco closes his book and sits up, patting the couch beside him. “Stop pacing. Come on. Relax for a second.” 

Harry sits next to Draco, submitting easily to his gentle hand playing with his hair. Draco had been more tactile since Christmas, seemingly loosened up by Harry’s gift (which he loved to pieces, and used in the Astronomy tower every night), and Harry was enjoying it quite a bit more than he should. Harry drops his head to rest on Draco’s shoulder, sighing. “I’m just so worried. What if we’re messing everything up?”

Draco’s voice rumbles calmly from above him.“Then we’ll fix it. It’ll be okay, Harry. Sirius will be fine.”

Harry’s voice breaks. “He wasn’t fine the first time.” Harry closes his eyes and sees the lines in Sirius’s forehead, the dark bags under his eyes. The open scream on his face as he melted into the veil.

Draco’s hand moves to Harry’s shoulders, massaging lightly. “Harry, I’ve grown quite fond of my cousin. I don’t want anything to happen to him, either. But he can handle himself.”

Harry nods against Draco’s shoulder, trying to convince himself of this fact. 

Draco continues on. “Plus, we already sent Pettigrew after him. Not that I trust him, mind you, but at least he’ll get us the information we need.”

“And what information is that?”

Harry and Draco both look up at Remus’s voice. He’s standing in the doorway, a hard look in his eyes.

“Harry. I like you. I do. But if you and Draco know something, I want in. I’m sick of you keeping this to yourselves.” His voice softens. “I’m just worried about Sirius. Can you at least tell me if he’ll be okay?”

Harry and Draco share a look. Harry thinks carefully about how to respond.

“He’ll be okay,” he says hesitantly, “as long as Draco and I being here hasn’t changed things too much.” Hopefully.

Remus sits down on the opposing couch. “Well. That isn’t very comforting.”

Harry sighs. “I know. That’s why we sent Peter to go check on him. We’re not exactly sure what happens at this point. It could be completely different.”

Draco speaks up quietly. “Remus. I know you care about him. Trust me, we all do. I want nothing more than to know that Sirius and Regulus are okay. But all we can do at the moment is hope.”

Remus looks up sharply. “Regulus? You think this has something to do with Regulus?”

Draco curses quietly at the slip up, then composes himself. “We do,” he says carefully. “I don’t believe Sirius would have left if any other member of his family was in trouble. But he still cares about his brother, as estranged as they may be.”

Remus nods thoughtfully. “You think Regulus is in some sort of trouble, then?”

Draco nods.

Remus hesitates. “This trouble that he’s in,” he says slowly. “I understand if you can’t tell me the specifics. But— how dangerous is it?”

Harry and Draco exchange a glance. 

“I don’t think you want to know, Remus,” Harry says quietly, voice shaking.

Remus looks angry for a moment, but seems to deflate once he looks at Harry’s expression. “You’re really worried about him,” he says softly.

Harry nods. “Of course I am,” he says, a little indignantly. “He’s my godfather.”

Remus starts at that, eyes widening slightly. “I didn’t know,” he says quietly. 

Harry shrugs. “We were— pretty close, in the future. Trust me, I’m just as worried as you are.”

Remus sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says tiredly. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just haven’t been sleeping well. For obvious reasons.”

Harry stands up and goes to sit next to Remus, trying to ignore the bereft feeling he gets from the loss of Draco’s arm around him. He hugs Remus, feeling some of the tension seep from his body. “As soon as Peter comes back with the news, you’ll be the first to know,” he promises.

Remus nods. “Thanks, it’s just— why does Peter get to know? I get it,” he rushes out, “that there’s things you can’t tell us, about the future. I just don’t understand why you would tell Peter, of all people.”

Harry hesitates, trying to decide what to say without giving too much away. “Peter’s— he plays an important role,” he says carefully, “in the future. And it was... necessary, to tell him about it. I don’t really know how to explain it more than that,” he says apologetically. “But I promise, it’s not because I like him better, or that I trust him more. Honestly, I don’t like him much at all,” he admits.

Remus looks surprised at that, but nods. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Fair enough, I suppose.” He stands up, starting towards the door. “I’m going to the library with Lily,” he says, “but— thank you, Harry. And you, Draco,” he tacks on belatedly. Draco nods at him from his position on the couch.

“Anytime, Remus,” Harry says quietly. It doesn’t feel like enough. He wishes he could tell him the truth.

“Anytime,” Draco echoes, shooting Remus a strained smile as he leaves.

As soon as he’s out the door, Harry and Draco both slump in relief.

“It’s getting harder to keep this from them,” Harry worries, sinking back down on the couch next to Draco’s comforting warmth. Draco’s arm wraps around his shoulders almost immediately.

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Draco says hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously when Harry turns to look at him in disbelief. “I’m just saying. We’re pretty much making this up as we go along. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, we’re going to need more help at some point.”

Harry blinks at him. “You... have a point,” he admits, “but I don’t particularly want to tell my parents and their friends about their own murders.”

Draco stiffens, nodding along with Harry’s words. “Of course,” he rushes to say, “but we wouldn’t tell them that part. Just about the war.” Sensing Harry’s hesitation, he says more gently, “The war’s coming soon, Harry. They can’t be kept in the dark for much longer.”

Harry sighs. “I know,” he says tiredly. “It’s just been so  _ nice,  _ to see everyone so happy and carefree. I just— I thought we’d have more time.”

Draco squeezes his shoulder lightly. “I know,” he murmurs. “But the time we do have is a gift. This happened by accident, Harry, but look what it’s given us. We have a chance to  _ change  _ things.”

Harry grins, despite his sombering mood. “Look at you, being all sincere,” he teases. “Someone could even mistake you as a Hufflepuff.”

Draco puffs up in mock indignation, even as his cheeks redden. “You take that  _ back,”  _ he says, disgruntled. 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it, Malfoy?” 

The instant the words are out of his mouth, he realizes how flirtatious they sounded. Both him and Draco seem to process their intertwined position on the couch at the same time, and Harry reluctantly unhooks his ankle from Draco’s.

Draco’s face is bright red. “Er—”

A loud bang fills the room, and both boys startle. Peter Pettigrew runs into the room, slightly panting from exertion.

Harry rushes to stand up. “Peter. Is Sirius okay?”

The nod he receives in return almost makes him collapse from relief. Behind him, Draco lets out a whoosh of air.

“...is Regulus okay?” Draco asks, more quietly.

Peter hesitates, and Harry tenses.

“He didn’t have that... tattoo thing, that you mentioned.” Harry hears an audible sigh of relief from Draco. 

Peter furrows his brow. “But, no. I don’t think he’s okay. I think he’s in a fair bit of trouble, actually.” Harry nods, sitting back down next to Draco (this time, at least a meter away, as he actually needs to  _ focus _ at the moment, unfortunately). They had expected this. If Regulus wasn’t a Death Eater yet, then they still had a chance.

Harry takes a deep breath and fixes his gaze on Peter.

“Tell us everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years! First off, I apologize that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. I truly couldn’t think of another scene that would work well in this chapter, and I didn’t want to force one for the sake of the word count. Secondly, you may have noticed (but probably not) that I’ve begun editing some of the earlier chapters. Nothing that is changing the plot in any significant way, just me patching up bits that need some work. I would like, ideally, to edit this entire work up to my standards after I finish, but we’ll see how much motivation I actually have to do it. Anyways, this is probably not something that will be super noticeable as I go back and edit, so don’t worry about it. As always, thank you all for the love on this fic! You all are absolutely lovely and I take all your comments to heart. There may be a bit of a gap in future updates, as the spring semester is starting soon and I’ll presumably have less time to write. I’ll still work on this as much as I can, though! Can’t wait to finish it. :)
> 
> -H❤️


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sirius returns, and the truth comes out. part of it, anyways.

By the time Sirius returns, three days later, Harry has a good idea of what to say. He’s practiced his speech about the war with Draco, he’s taken some deep breaths, and he’s fully prepared (in theory) for what Sirius will tell them when he returns. 

It still doesn’t mean he’s ready for Sirius to bust open the door to the Gryffindor common room and immediately round on Harry, in full view of the marauders.

“Harry.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius’s eye twitches. “I need you to be straight with me. No bullshit, alright?”

James and Lily sit up hurriedly from where they were cuddled up on the couch. “Hey, what’s this about?” James asks indignantly. “You disappear out of the blue, _miss_ the full moon, we thought you were bloody— dead, or in a ditch somewhere, I don’t know— and then you start going off on Harry? What’s going on?”

Remus hasn’t yet met Sirius’s eye, but Harry had caught his sigh of relief upon his entrance to the room. Remus had been worried sick about Sirius for weeks, almost to the point of insanity. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he had been skipping meals, and took to bringing him leftovers from the dining hall. Still, Remus had clearly felt Sirius’s absence dearly.

Sirius brushes James off with a wave of his hand. “I’ll explain in a second. But—” he looks worriedly at Remus, who’s still determinedly avoiding his eye. “I _am_ sorry for missing the full moon. Moony, you know I wouldn’t unless it was something really important. It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

Remus visibly softens. “I know. It was alright— Harry and Draco volunteered to help out.” _Yes, and you still howled with grief the whole night,_ Harry thinks. Remus clearly doesn’t want to mention it, though, so Harry stays quiet. Sirius glances quickly at Harry and nods his thanks.

”I’m just glad you’re okay,” Remus says quietly. Sirius looks at him for a second, searching his eyes.

”I’m okay. For now, at least.” He reluctantly turns back to Harry.

“Harry, would you have told us if something important was going to happen? Something bad? Because I’m really hoping this... _thing_ back home doesn’t turn out to be a big deal, but I’m not too sure.” Sirius sighs. “Just tell me, Harry. Please. How worried do I need to be?”

Lily furrows her brow. “What’s he talking about, Harry?”

Remus looks up. “Is this about Regulus? About the trouble he’s in?”

Sirius blinks. “How did you know this had anything to do with Reg?”

“Harry told me,” Remus says slowly. Harry feels the weight of five pairs of eyes as they turn to look at him at once. He feels a bit hot under the collar from the sudden pressure.

Harry hesitates, thinking back to his conversation with Draco, back to the words of his practiced speech. Harry had to tell the marauders about the war. For their own good. Also because Harry and Draco could really use some help.

Harry takes a deep breath, and tries to calm his nerves. He wishes Draco was here, but he had gone off to check on Narcissa after the news of the Black manor takeover. Harry didn’t blame him, but it did mean he would have to deliver the news alone.

“Okay. So.” Harry fidgets with his wand, a force of habit. “I have been keeping some things from you all. Some— pretty important things.” Harry gestures for Sirius to sit down, and he does, a concerned twist to his expression.

“Sirius already knows some of it,” Harry says hesitantly. He turns to Sirius. “Where’s Regulus, on that note? Is he okay?” 

Sirius nods. “I brought him back to Hogwarts with me,” he says quietly. “The Manor isn’t safe right now.”

Harry sighs. “You’re right, it’s not.” He turns to the group at large. “The Black Manor is currently home to a powerful dark wizard named Voldemort. He’s not very well known yet, but he will be soon. In my day, he’s most well known for starting the Second Wizarding War.”

The room goes silent. “Did you say _war?”_ Remus repeats, face whitening. 

Harry takes a shaky breath. “Yes,” he says softly. “It’s coming, and it’s coming fast. I can’t pretend it’s not, anymore.” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to halt the incoming tears. He manages to make it through his practiced speech, explaining Voldemort’s rise to power to the best of his ability.

“I know I should have told you,” he says finally, “but I thought I could stop it on my own. I needed to fix it. And— you were all so happy. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

Lily reaches out, putting a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, you didn’t have to carry this by yourself. Of course we’ll help you.”

Harry shrugs. “I wasn’t by myself. Draco was helping.”

James looks up for the first time, determination settling on his face. “Well, now you have us.”

Sirius nods, expression uncharacteristically grave. “Listen, I may not like my family very much, but I don’t want them to die at the hands of some maniac. Well— Regulus, at least. And maybe some of my cousins— Narcissa’s Draco’s mum, isn’t she?” He looks at Harry for confirmation, and nods decisively. “They’re not half bad. The rest of them, quite honestly, I could give less of a shit about.”

Harry gives him a small smile, despite the tension in the room. “That’s what Draco and I are trying to help with,” he admits. “Draco’s gone off to help his mum, but we need your help to keep Regulus safe. And on the right side.”

Sirius looks pained. “He ends up on the wrong side, then? On— _Voldemort’s_ side?”

Harry hesitates. “For a bit,” he admits. “He saw sense in the end. But I think we can fix it, to where he never joins up in the first place.”

Sirius pales. “You _think_? How are we supposed to do that, exactly?”

Harry leans forward a bit. “Well, has he mentioned anything about an oath? About becoming a Death Eater?” Harry had already heard a bit of it from Peter, but he’s still not sure of the whole story.

Sirius pales. “Yeah, he did,” he admits. “He said that he was being pushed into it by our parents, that if he took the oath they’d be in good standing with Voldemort.”

Harry nods, having expected as much. “As long as Regulus is at Hogwarts, he’ll be safe. But I’ll need someone to keep an eye on him, just until Draco gets back. After that, he can handle it— They’re friends, apparently.”

Sirius nods quickly. “Of course. I’ll do it, no problem.”

James clears his throat. “What can the rest of us do? And how much time do we have?”

Harry looks at him, thinking. “I can run Defense lessons— Not that most of you really need them, I’m sure,” he assures quickly. “But if there’s anyone else willing to help that you can think to recruit, I’ll be grateful for the support. Anything any of you can do delay his rise to power— maybe by talking to the Slytherins, convincing them out of the Death Eaters— will be helpful.” Harry hesitates.

“Lily?” She looks up, attentive. “You might want to check up on Snape.” Beside her, James clenches his jaw, but Lily nods decisively. 

“Of course.”

Harry lets out a breath. “Thank you. As for time, I’m not sure. We’ll just have to hope it’s enough.”

The room falls silent, until Remus hesitantly speaks up. “Harry— not that I don’t trust your plan, but shouldn’t we get the Aurors involved in this? The Ministry? McGonagall, at least?”

Harry considers this. “A lot of the first Death Eaters were in the Ministry,” he points out. “But McGonagall isn’t a bad idea. I’m just not sure how to even begin explaining it.” He sighs. “Who we _really_ need is Dumbledore, but Merlin knows where he’s run off to.”

James looks at him steadily. “Harry, we can do this without him. You’re the lead on this, and we’ll follow whatever you say. What’s the plan?”

Harry feels a stab of appreciation for his dad. Is this what it would have been like, to have him around growing up? Harry supposes if their plan works, maybe he’ll get to find out.

Anyways, time for phase two of Harry’s plan.

“Who knows what a Horcrux is?”

***

Remus has been silent during most of Harry’s little war planning meeting, although he hadn’t intended to do so. It’s just… ever since the word _war_ came out of Harry’s mouth, Remus hasn’t been able to stop thinking. And worrying.

He’s not sure he’ll survive this.

Yes, he knows that, in Harry’s future at least, he survives. Remus grows up to be a professor — however _that_ happens — and Sirius grows up to be Harry’s godfather, and whatever else that entails. Lily and James grow up to be parents, and Peter grows up to be — something. Presumably.

But this is a new future that they’ve created, and Remus doubts he’ll get lucky enough to survive a second time. He’ll follow the marauders anywhere, of course, but he fears that this may be the last time he’ll have the chance.

He needs to talk to Sirius.

Remus can be a coward sometimes, especially when it comes to love, but he can’t die without telling Sirius how he feels. He knows it’s unlikely to lead to anything, that it’s unlikely Sirius returns his feelings. But still, he needs to do this. For his own sense of closure, if nothing else.

Harry finally comes to the end of his speech about Horcruxes (and it’s not that Remus wasn’t listening, but he’s still not quite sure what they are), and Remus seizes on the opportunity to talk to Sirius.

The second they’ve finished, Remus grabs Sirius’s arm and drags him into the dormitory, closing the door behind them.

Sirius sits down hesitantly, a decidedly guilty expression on his face. “Remus… I’m so sorry for missing the full moon. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”

Remus sighs. “I’m okay, yeah. But that’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sirius looks up in surprise, and Remus hurries to explain.

“I know that your family was in trouble. _Is_ in trouble. I get it. I just—” Remus feels his breath quicken with panic, and Sirius quickly reaches over to rub his back comfortingly. The gesture is so sweet that Remus almost tears up on the spot.

“I just. Just wanted to tell you, in case things go wrong. In case I don’t make it out of this.”

Sirius grabs at his hand, running a finger over his knuckles. “Don’t you say that,” he whispers fiercely. “You, Remus Lupin, are the strongest person I know. If anyone can make it through this, it’s you.” He pauses. “But what did you want to tell me?”

Remus hesitates. Does he really want to do this? Sure, things have been a little different between him and Sirius lately — different in a way that’s almost started to give Remus hope— but does he really want to risk their friendship on a possibility? Sirius is the best friend that Remus has ever had. 

“I, um.” He takes a deep breath. “I— and I don’t expect anything from you, by the way — you don’t have to feel the same way, that’s completely fine—” 

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “How about you just tell me, and I can decide how I feel for myself,” he chides gently.

“Right.” Remus squares his shoulders. “The thing is. We’ve been friends for a long time, right?” 

Sirius nods, a bit confused. “...Right.”

“And we care about each other. As friends do.”

Sirius furrows his brows. “Of course.”

“Except.” Remus feels as though he might faint, but forces himself to keep going. “Except. I care about you… a bit more. Than friends usually do.”

Sirius throws his hands up, exasperated. “Of course you do! I care about you too, Moony! I suspect we all care about each other a good bit more than normal friends do. Merlin, is that all you wanted to tell me?” He snorts. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Remus stares at him incredulously. “Sirius, you can _not_ be this dense. Do you really have no idea what I’m trying to tell you? None at all?”

Sirius looks at him uncomprehendingly. “That we’re friends? That you care about me? It’s really sweet, Moony, but you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble to tell me that.”

Remus deflates a bit. Maybe this is a sign to stop pushing it; a sign that Sirius really does see them as nothing more than friends. “Right. Well—”

“Hey, Padfoot! He wants to shag, you idiot!” 

They both whirl around to catch a glimpse of James, grinning cheekily from around the door. He winks at Remus, who abruptly goes bright red. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Use protection!” And with that, he closes the door decisively.

Remus flounders, at a loss for words. “Um. I—”

Sirius is looking at him fondly. “Well. You could have just said so, Moony.”

“...Sorry, what?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, standing up and coming over to Remus’s loveseat. He arranges himself smoothly on the arm of the chair, and Remus is abruptly unsure what to do with his hands. Or his anything. “Um.”

“Really. You didn’t have to go through all this — pomp and whatnot. You could have just told me,” Sirius says, softening his tone at the end.

Remus struggles to find his voice. “Well, James put it a bit more crassly than I would like. It’s not like I want to shag _right now.”_

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t?” He looks pointedly at Remus’s crotch, then away. “Shame.”

Remus smacks him lightly on the arm. _“Sirius.”_

“I’m just saying, I brought condoms for nothing. Sad, really.”

Remus looks up at the ceiling, trying to dull his blush. “Sirius. Honestly, I just wanted to tell you that I—” he takes a deep breath. “That I love you.” There. He did it. “And the world might be ending soon, so there’s that.”

When he chances a look at Sirius, he’s almost brought to his knees by the undisguised affection on his face.

“I love you too, Moony.”

And (finally), their lips meet. Only a few years overdue, Remus thinks, but it was sure worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay on this chapter— I’ve just gone back to college, and I’ve been a bit busy. Updates will probably space out to about once a month, realistically, until summer. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Probably the most fluff you’re gonna get for a while, to be honest. I will continue going back and editing this fic, and this chapter is set to be intensively edited, so at some point the details in this part may change a bit. As always, I appreciate comments and kudos! Love you guys❤️
> 
> -H


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy valentine’s day! not a lot of fluff in this, i’m afraid😅

Draco is stressed out of his _mind._ Usually, he prides himself on keeping his composure regardless of the severity of the situation (thanks to his father, of course; at least Lucius was good for _something),_ but this is something else entirely. Draco likes to think that he’s been keeping up appearances well, as he always does, but he’s on the verge of breaking.

Narcissa can definitely tell.

“Draco! What a… _lovely_ surprise,” she says, the heavy iron door to the Black mansion creeping open. Draco doesn’t miss the way her eyes dart behind her, as if looking for someone. Draco shivers, a full-body terror coming over him instantly. The thought of seeing _You-Know-Who_ again is enough to do that to him.

“Can we talk outside?” he says nervously, foot tapping on the cobblestone entryway of its own accord. Narcissa nods immediately, hurrying towards him and closing the door carefully behind her. The minute the door closes, she drags Draco by the arm around the side of the house.

“What are you _doing_ here?” she hisses quietly. “Draco, the mansion isn’t safe right now. You need to leave.”

Draco nods, glancing towards the door to ensure they aren’t being watched. “I know, I know. I am leaving. As soon as you come with me. You can’t stay here.”

Narcissa sucks in a sharp breath. “You know. About what’s happening. About… who’s in there.” She walks them a few more feet away from the house, looking over her shoulder worriedly. “It gets worse, then?”

“Yeah. Much worse. Which is exactly why we need to _leave.”_ Draco looks hurriedly down at his watch. He really doesn’t want to be here much longer. Every second spent at the Manor is a second too long.

Narcissa worries at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Won’t they notice, if I leave?” She lowers her voice. “Won’t _he_ notice?”

Draco waves a hand impatiently. “I’ve already put up a Notice-Me-Not charm. We have about thirty minutes, and by that time we’ll already be long gone. But we need to leave _now.”_

Narcissa nods decisively. “Fine. But I’m taking Bella and Andromeda with me.”

Draco parses that statement quickly, then runs it through his brain again. “... _Bella?_ You want to take _Bellatrix?”_

Narcissa blinks at him, nonplussed. “Yes, of course. She’s my sister, why wouldn’t I take her?” 

_Great._ Just one more person for Draco to be terrified of. He sighs. “Alright, then, let’s get this over with.” He draws his wand defensively and starts towards the house, but he’s stopped quickly by a hand on his arm.

Narcissa looks at him like he’s suddenly grown three heads. “Draco, you don’t have to come,” she says, bewildered. “They’re my sisters, I’ll just pop in to get them and be right back out.”

Draco shakes his head firmly. “Well, they’re my aunts. Even Bellatrix.” He shudders. “Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you go back in there alone.”

Narcissa narrows her eyes. “What do you have against Bella?”

“Listen, I’d love to tell you, but we really don’t have time to stand outside all night.” Draco rubs at his temple. He can already feel a migraine coming on. “It’s okay. What’s one more hopeless cause to try and redeem?”

Narcissa frowns, opening her mouth to argue.

“Nope. Argument later, saving your sisters now. There’s no time.” Draco says quickly. “Sorry,” he adds on belatedly, after meeting Narcissa’s unimpressed stare. With that done, he takes his mother’s arm and apparates them both into what he hopes is Andromeda’s bedroom.

As the room swirls around them, he cracks an eye open wearily, hoping he hasn’t massively miscalculated the jump and landed in You-Know-Who’s lair or something of the sort. He’s almost relieved to see Andromeda and Bellatrix sitting on the floor reading potions books, which is a sentence Draco never imagined he would think. 

Andromeda looks up, brow furrowed. “Cissy? Who’s this?” 

Draco rushes forward to grab her and Bellatrix’s arms, linking the four of them in a loose circle. “No time to explain,” he says apologetically. “We’re getting you out of here.” 

Bellatrix wrenches her arm away firmly. “Why would I want to _leave?_ I don’t even know who you are.” She glares at Narcissa.

“Bella, you know we can’t stay here,” Narcissa chides lightly. “Come on, get your things. We’re leaving for Hogwarts.” She gestures to Andromeda, who’s already begun to hurriedly pack her bags.

Bellatrix frowns. “No,” she protests. “You don’t get it. He said he had a special job for me. I’m _important_ to him. I can be useful here.”

Andromeda whirls around, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Bella, you can’t possibly think that’s a _good_ thing. I think being here has been bad for you. Cissy’s right, we need to leave.” She pauses. “I’m scared,” she admits. “Narcissa’s scared. I know, deep down, that you’re scared too. Even if you try not to show it.”

Bellatrix blinks, and in an instant turns furious. “How _dare_ you accuse me of cowardice,” she seethes. “Being around muggles has made you weak, you and Narcissa both. I’m staying, and that’s final.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “As much as I would love to unpack all of _that,”_ he says, glancing at Narcissa, “we really must leave.” He tilts his head towards Bellatrix, and Narcissa understands immediately, quickly grabbing her wand and circling a hand tightly around her arm. 

“Let _go_ of me, you mudblood-loving—”

Narcissa calmly ignores her. “Andromeda, are you ready?”

Andromeda nods affirmatively, coming over to join the circle with a firm hand on Draco’s arm.

Draco smiles. “Excellent. Let’s go.”

***

While Draco strongly admires Hogwarts’s no-apparition policy, it does become slightly cumbersome in times like these. But then again, who _wouldn’t_ enjoy a day long walk through the forbidden forest with their mum and two aunts, one of whom they’re absolutely terrified of? Draco is, for one, having an excellent time.

“You can’t keep me prisoner here,” Bellatrix complains. “Wait until I signal the Dark Lord, then you’ll see.”

Andromeda rolls her eyes, dragging an unwilling Bellatrix behind her. “What, without your wand? Have fun with that, Bella.”

Draco looks over at Narcissa, raising an eyebrow. _“Why don’t I like Bella,_ you asked. Well, I _do_ wonder why that could possibly be.”

Narcissa shrugs uncomfortably. “She’s usually not this bad, I swear. Unless—” she glances over at Draco. “She gets worse, then? In the future?”

Draco shudders. “ _Worse_ doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He stops walking for a second, a horrible thought striking him. “Oh, Merlin. Harry’s going to be so mad that I brought her.” Sure, Harry had seemingly forgiven Peter Pettigrew, but to forgive the girl that killed Sirius Black? Even Harry didn’t have that much benevolence in him.

Draco takes a deep breath, trying to reason it out. “But, you know, she hasn’t done those things yet. Maybe won’t ever do them. We’re in uncharted waters now. Even if she does seem…” He glances back at Bellatrix, who seems to be trying to bite Andromeda’s hand off from where it grips her shoulder.

Charming.

Narcissa looks pained. “She wasn’t always like this. I don’t know what happened.”

Draco pats her shoulder commiseratingly. “Our family happened. It’s alright. Happens to the best of us.” Him and Narcissa share a loaded look, a silent understanding passing between them. Draco clears his throat. “All we can do now is move on.”

Narcissa nods. “Quite right.”

“Soo, I couldn’t help but overhear,” says Andromeda glibly, finally free of Bellatrix’s wandering teeth, “but I’m going to assume that Draco here is a future Black relative?” She sizes him up for a moment, then gasps delightedly. “Cissy, is this your _son?_ My, my, he does quite look like Lucius Malfoy, doesn’t he?” 

Narcissa rolls her eyes. “I don’t even _like_ Lucius.” She glances back at Draco. “No offense.” 

Draco laughs. “None taken, trust me.” He looks back at Andromeda, and realizes he probably hasn’t made the best first impression on his aunt. He quickly smooths his shirt down and sticks out a hand. “Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you.”

Andromeda takes his hand and immediately pulls him into a hug, causing the air to leave Draco’s lungs in a little _whoosh._ “Nice to meet you, Draco. Now, tell me,” she looks into his eyes mock-seriously. “I’m the cool aunt, right?”

Draco hesitates. He only saw Andromeda once in the future, and it was as she lay dying on the floor of Hogwarts. He certainly didn’t know her well. He looks back at her bright, open face and lies through his teeth. “Of course you’re the fun aunt. Who else would it be, Bellatrix?” He pulls an exaggerated face of disgust, only feeling slightly guilty from the growing look of delight on Andromeda’s face. Some lies, he decides, are necessary.

Andromeda settles into a more serious tone. “Thank you for getting us out of the Manor, Draco. It was a very brave thing to do.”

Draco doesn’t feel very brave at all, but at least someone thinks he is.

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. It was the least I could do, for my family.”

Narcissa squeezes his hand tightly in thanks, and they all sit for a moment in blissful silence.

“I think I’m going to throw up in my mouth,” groans Bellatrix. Draco had almost forgotten about her, somehow.

“Well, the moment’s over, now,” says Andromeda cheerfully. “Better get going if we want to make Hogwarts by sunset.”

Draco sighs, and continues to walk, with only slightly less energy than before. Beside him, Narcissa bumps him playfully on the shoulder. “Well, we have three hours to go. You know what that means?”

Draco narrows his eyes. “...What?”

“You get to tell me _all_ about what’s happening with Harry.” Narcissa grins slyly.

Draco groans, feeling his cheeks heat up. _“Mum._ There’s nothing to tell, I swear.”

Narcissa raises her eyebrows. “Oh? So he didn’t like that scarf we worked on, then?”

Draco frowns. “No, he loved it. Wears it all the time, even.” He smiles softly, remembering Harry’s reaction to the gift. It had been difficult, figuring out to buy for him. Harry was quite rich, even if he didn’t take advantage of it, and Draco didn’t want to try and impress him by throwing his money around. That was part of why Harry had disliked him in the first place, and Draco was _not_ going down that road again. But a thoughtful, homemade gift? Just up Harry’s alley.

Narcissa grins. “He better. We worked hard on that!” She purses her lips thoughtfully. “But obviously it didn’t work well enough if you two still aren’t together. Do you think he’d appreciate some baked goods?”

“Mum, listen.” Draco pauses. “Actually, he probably would, but that’s not the point.” He sighs. 

“I’ve been thinking, and maybe I’m just reading the signs wrong. Maybe he treats all of his friends like this.” That doesn’t feel right, either. Draco tries to collect his thoughts. “I mean, I didn’t ever see him treat Weasley like he treats me. But maybe I just missed it?”

Narcissa looks unimpressed. “My son, the self-confessed Harry Potter stalker, missing a detail? I don’t think so.” She looks him steadily in the eye. “Draco, I _know_ I had to have raised you to be smarter than this. Harry’s supposed to be the dense one, not you.” 

Draco smiles slightly at that. “No, you’re right.” He rubs his forehead. “I just— I think I’m stuck. I don’t know how to move forward without putting my neck on the line. And he used to hate me, you know? I don’t think I could go back to that. It would kill me.”

Narcissa stops walking, taking Draco firmly by the shoulder. “Draco, have you forgotten? We’re Slytherins, my dear. And when we see something we want, what do we do?”

Draco grins, the words already imprinted in the back of his head.

“We go after it.”

***

Sirius doesn’t mean to overhear. He really doesn’t. He was only going to Harry’s room in the first place to pick up his Herbology textbook he had left behind the other day when they had been studying. It was only when he heard the whispers coming from inside that he paused outside the door. Was that… Harry and _Peter?_

“Look, Peter, I appreciate you wanting to help. I just don’t know if I can trust you with such an important task yet.”

“I get it, Harry, I do. But let me prove myself. _Please._ I already feel bad enough as it is.” 

Sirius furrows his brow. What did Peter have to feel bad about? Whatever this conversation was about, it gave Sirius a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He inches closer to the door.

“... I understand, Peter. But you understand too, right? You know what you did, in the future. Even though you haven’t done it yet, and _will_ never do it—” Merlin, Sirius hasn’t ever heard Harry this stern before. “— you can see why I don’t trust you to do this.”

“Of course I know what I did. Even if it won’t ever happen, I have to live with the fact that some version of me somewhere betrayed your parents. That’s not something I take lightly, Harry.”

There’s a long silence. Sirius bites his lip to keep himself from making a sound. Peter betrayed Lily and James? How? _Why?_

Finally, Harry speaks, his tone heavy. “I know. Sorry. It’s just difficult, sometimes, to keep everything straight. But right now, my parents are alive, and we need to keep it that way.” Harry pauses, completely oblivious to the way all the breath just left Sirius’s body. “You’re right, Peter. We need all the help we can get.” He sighs. “You can go after the diadem. Just take Draco with you, please. He should be back later tonight.”

“Thanks, Harry! You won’t regret it, I swear. I want this Voldemort guy gone just as much as you do.”

Harry chuckles lowly. “No offense, Peter, but I highly doubt that.”

There’s a significant pause, where Peter seems to be weighing his options of what to say. “Harry, I can’t say I understand the world you came from. It sounds horrible. But even though I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about this, I get what it means to be an orphan. If you ever need to talk to me, I’m here.”

An _orphan,_ Merlin. How did Sirius not notice? Harry seemed to barely know anything about his parents, and he showed all the textbook signs of childhood abuse that Sirius had just ignored. He figured he was wrong, because he knew Lily and James would never mistreat their son. It makes a lot more sense now that he knows they weren’t there to raise him. 

Did Peter have something to do with this? No wonder Harry seemed to dislike him so much. Sirius clenches his jaw, willing himself to stay silent.

“Thanks for the offer, Peter. You know, you’re a much better guy than you were in the future.” Harry sighs deeply. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m just stressed.”

Peter hums understandingly.

“Anyways, you’re free to go. Go with Draco to the Room of Requirement, you’ll find the diadem there. Bring it straight to me, alright? We still have to figure out how to destroy it.”

“Alright, Harry. I’ll bring it right back to you as soon as we find it.”

“Thanks, Peter. Have a good night.”

Peter waves goodbye, and Sirius hurriedly ducks behind the door to avoid being seen. He swallows uneasily, only one thought in his mind.

He has to tell Remus about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!! Harry’s POV should be back in the next chapter, for anyone who’s missed it. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and had a lovely Valentine’s Day. I love you all.❤️
> 
> -H


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there’s a little something for everyone in this chapter. enjoy❤️

For all that Harry’s been anticipating Draco’s return to Hogwarts, he was _not_ expecting the unwelcome addition of Bellatrix Lestrange. He takes one look at her, dragged along by Tonks— _Merlin,_ is it nice to see her again — and has to physically turn around and take a deep, calming breath. He clenches and unclenches his fists, then counts backwards from ten in his head. He’s not sure it’s helping much. 

Harry slowly turns back around to meet Draco’s guilty eyes. Draco quickly straightens. “Now, I know what you’re going to say—”

Harry feels his eye twitch. “Oh? What am I going to say, Draco? Please, enlighten me.”

Draco huffs. “Listen, I don’t like her either. But—”

Narcissa quickly cuts him off, stepping forward and raising her chin slightly. “It was my idea. I understand from what my son has told me that you have quite a tarnished history with my sister, and I understand completely. Be that as it may, she’s my sister, and I’m taking full responsibility for her.” 

Harry takes her in for a moment. This is the first time he’s seen Narcissa in the past, and he’s stricken by how much she reminds him of Draco. Standing side by side, they could be twins: the same jaunty tilt to their chins, the same elegant, aristocratic fingers, the same tilted curve to their smiles. Harry swallows. “Mrs. Malfoy. I didn’t mean—”

Narcissa’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “Please don’t call me that. Narcissa will do just fine.” 

Harry nods, and she takes that as an invitation to continue.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’ve heard great things about you from Draco. He talks about you quite a bit.”

Harry, startled, glances back at Draco, who suddenly seems very interested in staring at the floor. He looks back to Narcissa and raises an eyebrow. “Really,” he says skeptically. “That doesn’t sound like him. Usually he’s the one telling me what a ponce I am.” Draco lets out a small snort, meeting Harry’s eye briefly in amusement before returning to his staring contest with the floorboards.

Narcissa looks faintly amused. “Perhaps you haven’t been listening, then.”

Harry blinks in surprise.

Draco clears his throat. “If we could please stop talking about me like I’m _not here,”_ he says grumpily, “there are more important matters at hand.”

Harry nods in agreement. “I understand that she’s your sister,” he says begrudgingly to Narcissa. “And you can do whatever you like, of course. As long as I don’t have to see her.” His gaze flickers back to Bellatrix, to the mark on her arm. It looks fresh. “Or be around her. Please.”

Bellatrix glances at him with hooded eyes. “Oh, are you _scared?_ Of little old me?” 

Tonks tugs at her arm. “Cut it out, Bella. Stop terrorizing the poor boy.”

“But Andromeda, he makes it so _easy.”_

Harry does, in fact, feel distinctly terrorized. On one hand, he vaguely realizes that it’s ridiculous to be afraid of this version of Bellatrix, the same age as him and virtually harmless. On the other, he can’t stop remembering her face as she blasted Sirius beyond the veil. The pure, unhinged joy that only came from a true lunatic. A murderer.

Draco, seemingly sensing an incoming breakdown, walks quickly over to Harry, wrapping a gentle hand around his arm. He turns back to the group. “As fun as this little reunion has been, I think I’ll take Harry back upstairs now.”

Tonks nods in understanding, and Narcissa waves them off, face kind. “It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Potter. Hopefully next time, it will be under better circumstances.”

Harry nods jerkily. “You— you too,” he says, peeling his eyes away from Bellatrix. Distantly, he feels Draco tugging on his arm, and lets himself be led back to the dormitory.

Draco’s rubbing at his arm soothingly as he leads him though the door. It’s nice, Harry thinks, leaning into the touch. “You’re okay, Harry. You’re at Hogwarts, I’m here, your parents are here.” Harry wonders faintly why Draco is giving him the standard panic attack pep talk, before he realizes, _Oh. I’m having a panic attack._

Draco leads him to the bed, and stops. Opens his mouth, then closes it again. Seems to steel himself. “Are you — Is it okay If I. If we lay down together?” Harry looks at him blankly, and Draco rushes to backpedal. “We definitely don’t have to,” he says quickly. “It just helps me. Whenever I’m in a bit of a state.”

Harry tries to express his thoughts in a way that’s not just a steady stream of tears, because if he starts crying he might never stop. And that would be fucking embarrassing, especially in front of Draco. Eventually, he realizes that Draco’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah,” he says faintly, his voice hoarse. “Go for it.”

Draco clears his throat. “Great,” he says, a bit awkwardly. “Then we’ll just—” he moves to sit on the bed, tugging Harry with him. There’s a bit of uncertain fumbling before they settle on a nice position, Draco sitting against the headboard with Harry tucked in between his legs, back pressed firmly against Draco’s solid chest. If Harry wasn’t so upset, he would probably be a bit turned on right now.

Draco hesitantly wraps an arm around Harry, stroking his shoulder gently with his thumb. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Harry swallows. “Not really. But— this is helping.” He twists his head to look at Draco. “You’re helping,” he says quietly.

Draco looks back at him, expression soft. “Good,” he whispers back. Harry thinks for a second that something might happen, but Draco only breaks eye contact and looks up at the ceiling. Oh. Harry twists back around, resting the back of his head on Draco’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I brought her,” Draco confesses. “I really tried to leave her behind. I knew how hard it would be for you.”

Harry sighs. “No, you did the right thing,” he admits. “I’m just— selfish. She hasn’t even done anything yet. I have no reason to hate her.”

Draco looks up, surprised. “Harry, you have _every_ right to hate her. Hell, _I_ hate her. Just because she’s my family doesn’t mean she’s redeemable. In fact, it probably tips the odds against her.”

Harry hums thoughtfully. “Still. There’s a chance, however small. It’s just— I don’t want to be the one in charge of it.” He huffs. “Is that horrible of me?”

Draco stares at him incredulously. “Harry, no one expects that from you. We’ll leave her to my mum, it’ll be fine.”

Harry slumps in relief. “Great,” he says weakly. He looks back at Draco. “It’s good to see you again, by the way. I’m glad you made it okay.” Harry suddenly feels guilty with the realization that all he’s done since Draco arrived is yell and cry. “I’m sorry I’ve been weird.”

Draco snorts, tugging Harry closer. “You’re always weird,” he teases. “But no, I completely get it. It would have been weirder if you _hadn’t_ reacted.”

Harry nods, relieved. “Still. I’m sorry.” He winces then, remembering his earlier conversation with Peter. 

“And I’m _also_ sorry that I volunteered you to go search for Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem with Peter.”

Draco’s silent for a moment. “Well, I suppose I deserve that.”

Harry snorts a huff of laughter. “It’ll be quick, I promise. It’s in the Room of Requirement. I just— I didn’t trust him to go alone.”

Draco nods. “That’s okay. I don’t trust him, either. Of course I’ll do it.”

Harry smiles at him. “Thanks, Draco. For everything.”

Draco gives him an inscrutable look, and there’s a pregnant pause. Harry feels warm under his gaze.

“Anything for you, Harry.”

***

Draco is having a rotten time. _Anything for you, Harry!_ Merlin, what was he _thinking?_ That sort of talk was what got him in this mess in the first place. And it certainly had landed him here, in the bloody Room of Requirement with Peter Pettigrew at one in the morning. Really, Draco thinks he would rather be back in the dungeons with his father.

He glances back wearily at his companion, tossing another useless trinket over his shoulder. “You find anything?”

Peter shrugs. “Not a thing.”

_Great._ They were going to be here all bloody night. Draco squints, looking desperately for anything vaguely diadem-shaped. What even _was_ a diadem?

Draco hears nervous shuffling behind him, and he stops his search, sighing. “Spit it out, rat,” he snaps.

“Listen, Draco, do you think we could pick this up tomorrow? It’s just— It’s getting late, and my girlfriend Alice is expecting me back at her dorm—” 

Draco rolls his eyes, and briefly entertains the thought of telling Peter that his _girlfriend Alice_ grows up to marry a man named Frank and have their nerdy, herbology-loving son. Better not— too mean, even for Draco’s standards. He sighs.

“Go ahead, Peter. I’ll stay here.”

Peter glances back nervously. “Are you sure? I’m sure you’re tired too. We can meet up again another night.”

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. Pettigrew had _volunteered_ for this job, and yet he was still backing out of it. “We don’t have time for that. Just go.”

And with that, Peter scurries out of the room like the rat he is. _Great._

Back to the search, Draco supposes. It’s not like he has anything better to do. He glances around the room for a minute, suppressing a shudder. He doesn’t have many good memories in the Room of Requirement, he will admit. Near death by fiendfyre will do that to a person.

The room does look different now. Not as dark, not as charred. It’s simply a room, with some nice chairs, a rug, and piles upon piles of trinkets. Somewhere in the piles is the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, neatly containing a piece of Voldemort’s soul. So, strictly speaking, it’s a fairly average room, all things considered. 

After another hour of pointless searching, Draco figures it won’t kill him to take a break. He’s just _so tired,_ you see, and there’s a perfectly nice couch calling his name (that hadn’t been there before, had it?), and a perfectly nice mirror next to the couch — wait. Was that—? It couldn’t be. 

Draco walks up to the mirror cautiously, careful not to look at his reflection. He had heard legends about the Mirror of Erised, growing up as a young child. He had always thought them to be fiction. Who could blame him— a mirror that showed the truest desires of one’s heart? It sounded too much like something out of a Muggle fairy tale. Yet here it was, solid and real in front of him. Draco’s sure that it doesn’t _really_ show the desires of your heart (how could it?), but surely it couldn’t hurt to look… 

“Draco? Merlin, what are you still doing in here?”

_Fuck._ Harry.

Draco whirls around, stepping in front of the mirror on instinct. 

“Nothing. Well— not nothing, of course. I’m looking for the diadem. Peter went and abandoned me for Alice Longbottom, of all people.”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, that surprised me too. I never knew those two were together. Peter’s got a rude awakening coming, for sure. But, Draco— it’s four in the bloody morning. I didn’t expect you to stay up all night.”

Draco blinks in surprise. “Is it really? Bloody hell.”

Harry squints, trying to see around Draco. “What’s that behind you? It almost looks like—” he adjusts his glasses, then steps closer. “Merlin, is that the Mirror of Erised? I haven’t seen this thing in forever.”

“You’ve seen this before?” Draco’s almost jealous. Then he remembers he’s talking to bloody _Harry Potter,_ the savior of the Wizarding World. “Of course you have, why am I even surprised?” he grumbles. 

Harry grins at him cheekily. “So, what did you see? Yourself as the Minister of Magic? Winning the Quidditch Cup, maybe?” He pauses, considering. “That’s what Ron saw, I’m pretty sure.”

Draco shrugs. “I haven’t looked. What about you? What did you see, when you looked?”

Harry looks back at him, cheerful mood disappearing in an instant. “Er. I saw my parents.”

Draco feels like an idiot. “Harry, I’m sorry—”

Harry shrugs him off. “No, you’re fine. It was in first year, and I still felt a bit out of place at Hogwarts.” He sits down on the couch next to them to tell the story, and Draco follows suit. “I loved it, of course. It was loads better than it was at the Dursley’s.” There’s a moment of silence. Draco had heard rumors about the Muggles who had raised Harry _(raised_ being too generous a term, in Draco’s opinion), but they had never spoken about it directly. 

Harry clears his throat. “But I just— I missed them. Even though I never really knew them.” He blinks. “And now I know them. And they’re—”

“They’re wonderful,” Draco says softly.

Harry nods in agreement. “They really are, aren’t they?” He rubs at his eyes, and Draco graciously pretends not to notice. “Anyways, you should look. If you want to.”

Draco hesitates. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what he’ll see when he looks in the mirror. But Harry’s asking him, and Merlin knows that he’s incapable of saying no to Harry’s requests. 

“Sure. I guess it couldn’t hurt.” And with that he braces himself, and steps in front of the mirror. 

It takes a second for his eyes to catch up with the image. He looks— happy. _Really_ happy, actually. So does Harry. Because of course he’s there, in Draco’s greatest desire. He always has been. Draco takes it in greedily, the bare skin of his forearm, the cheeky grin on Harry’s face, the blond toddler on Draco’s hip. _Merlin._ It’s too much. Draco blinks back the sudden tears that spring up unbidden.

“Draco?” Harry comes up to him, places a gentle arm on his shoulder. “What is it? What do you see?”

Draco turns away, puts his mask back on. He can do this. He can pretend. He’s a good friend, after all. He clears his throat.

“I’m winning the Quidditch Cup.”

***

“Sirius, what are you trying to tell me?”

“You heard me, Remus.”

“Maybe you heard them wrong?”

Sirius groans, frustrated. “No. I know what I heard. Harry said his parents were dead. That he was an orphan.”

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you— it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, _me,_ I can see that. But Lily and James? They could survive the bloody apocalypse.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Sirius snaps. He hesitates. “But it wasn’t just—”

“It wasn’t just what?”

“They were betrayed,” Sirius says softly. “By one of us.”

Remus catches on immediately. “By—”

“By Peter, yeah. That’s why Harry doesn’t like him.”

Remus blinks, then his expression turns murderous. “Where is he?”

“What?”

“Peter. That _cowardly_ little bastard, I’ll rip him apart—”

_“Remus._ Hey. We don’t know the whole story yet.”

“We don’t _need_ to know the whole story. We treated him as one of us, Sirius. And he betrayed them. I don’t care if he hasn’t done it yet, if he did it in a different timeline, _whatever._ He did it. And that’s enough for me.”

Sirius huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I agree.” He scoots closer on the bed to Remus, offering him an arm. Remus cuddles under it immediately, calming slightly.

“I just— I can’t believe—”

“I know. Me too.”

“Poor Harry. _Merlin._ No wonder he hardly knew anything about his own parents.”

“Who do you think—” Sirius cuts off.

Remus sits up slightly. “No, what is it?”

“Who do you think raised him?”

Remus’s eyes soften. “Well, you’re his godfather. It would make the most sense.”

“It would, wouldn’t it? But I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Sirius sighs. “I didn’t want to say anything before.”

“About what?”

“Moony, I know what it’s like to grow up in an abusive household. Harry hides it well, but I know the signs.”

“Abusive? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

Remus blinks, processing that. “Well, I’ll say it again, then. _Poor Harry.”_ He shakes his head in disbelief. “We really need to talk to him soon. Get the full story. No lies this time.”

Sirius nods. “I get why he did. I wouldn’t want to tell my parents about their own death either. But we know now. We can help.”

“Lily and James aren’t dying on my watch, that’s for sure.” Remus thinks it over. “Harry must have been carrying this on his own for so long.” 

Sirius clutches Remus tighter. “Not anymore. He’s got us, now.”

“You’re damn right, he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for your continued support on this fic❤️ I do want to issue an apology to the person who asked if Alice was Alice Longbottom and i said no. I swear I wasn’t lying at the time, but I did steal your idea😅. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! The next one will be up in probably about a month. Also, it’s very likely that the chapter count will increase, because somehow I am moving at a snail’s pace in regards to the plot. Pray for me. Love you guys!
> 
> -H❤️


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